The End of the World
by FrankieMittens
Summary: All things end one day and no one is immortal. Completed.
1. Default Chapter

Right. Copyrights always and forever apply. Will be 11 parts plus the epilogue. Should you have the urge to flame, go ahead, but I'd appreciate if you do it via e-mail. Otherwise, it's rude. And forgive me the possible mistakes with the language, I'm not native English.

Enjoy the ride.

Misch

The End of The World

The evening had been a success. Well, what else can you expect when one of the richest households in Argentina decides to throw a dinner party to their closest 500 friends? 

Among the guest, enjoying the splendid evening, were Hannibal Lecter, MD and ex- special agent Clarice Starling. After the dinner they had spent their time dancing, making most of the other guest, who lacked their skills, green with envy. They were truly stunning in their appearance. Dr. Lecter in his perfect suit, hairs combed back and graciousness mixed with strength in his every move made many of the women at present sigh from sheer lust. Clarice, on the other hand, was like will-o'-the-wisp in men's eyes; unattainable in her beauty. When near her, the most respectful men in leading positions in society acted like schoolboys with a crush. 

After several dances, giving much material for daydreams for many, they had decided to get some fresh air for a change. They stood on the terrace where the music coming from the large living room was heard. The soft darkness brought by the night was all around them disturbed only by the light coming from the windows and opened door behind their backs. The scent of flowers was overwhelming in the warm night of Buenos Aires.

A few other guests were on the terrace, too, but it being the size of a small house it didn't bother significantly. Clarice and Dr. Lecter stood by the railing, a couple of meters away from the other people. They could hear their chatting but kept their own voices so low knew they couldn't do the same.

"Getting ready to leave, Clarice?" 

Dr. Lecter made sure no one heard him; his voice was so silent it was difficult for even Clarice to hear it. But she did, and his voice had the power on her it still held after all these years. The soft 's' made shivers ran down on her spine like it had done back in Baltimore a time which felt like an eternity ago.

Clarice smiled in the darkness; Dr. Lecter could see how the light coming from inside strengthened itself from the whiteness of her teeth.

"Not yet, Hannibal. I want to stay for just a little while."

Dr. Lecter raised his hand and let his index slid down on her back, which was bare due to the quite daring cut of her dress. Her skin was soft and the light tan created an illusion of an inner glow.

Clarice was surprised over his touch. He seldom touched her in a way like this when in a public place. 

"What was that for?"

Dr. Lecter put his arm around her waste and pulled her close to him. Clarice observed his face but, not surprisingly, couldn't tell what was going on. They had been together for almost five years and still, he was a total mystery to her when he wanted it to be so. There were times when she was able to see through him, but those events were short of number. This certainly wasn't one of them his face being completely unreadable. Yet, she didn't feel uncomfortable. Far from it; she willingly let herself drown in the stare of his maroon eyes and in the strong hold of his arms.

Hannibal Lecter wasn't a young man anymore, though his excellent physical condition took away several years from his true age. He was aware of it as he was of the age difference between him and Clarice. It had never bothered them, true, but man isn't immortal. 

Lately, he had came to realize that.

"Clarice, do you have regrets?" The tone of his voice was kind and almost curious.

Clarice couldn't help smiling. "What?"

"Do you have regrets?"

"I heard you the first time, Hannibal. What do you mean?"

"Do you wish you would have chosen otherwise?"

Clarice didn't understand what he was talking about. But since he obviously didn't mean the choice she had made a couple of hours ago whether to take fish or meat but something more important, she answered only with a questioning look in her eyes.

Dr. Lecter released the hold of his arms around her waste and took her face between his hands. Clarice responded by placing her hands over his. She sensed the change in the atmosphere and didn't feel comfortable anymore. She was afraid something bad would happen.

"Clarice, I believe there is no need for me to tell you how much I love you. You are the most precious thing to me on this planet and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You complete me in a way I never thought to be possible and just being here with you, breathing the same air you do and standing on the ground your feet are touching makes me overjoyed. But you know all this, at least that is what I hope." 

He paused for a moment as if to think what he would say next. He looked over her shoulder into the darkness and, for a second, Clarice felt he wasn't mentally at present. Then, he was back behind his eyes, in which was now something that could be defined as sorrow. 

He looked into her eyes and spoke with a soft, sad voice. "What you don't know is that it has to end."

He could have just as well stab a knife into her heart, only then the pain would have been much more tolerable. Disbelieved and shocked, Clarice searched some kind of explanation from his eyes only to discover the awful truth; he wasn't joking and his words held no hidden meanings of any kind. The word "end" filled her every thought with its desperate and final echo, it was all she could focus on though she wouldn't have wanted to. She wished this wasn't happening, not for real. 

"What… Hannibal, no! Why?" 

Her voice trembled, and though silent held a power coming from pure fear. Fear of loosing. 

The overwhelming feeling of desperation took over her whole body; she felt how her skin got gold and the beating of her heart fastened. And all he did was stare.

"Answer to me!" Her voice was just a whisper, colored by the tears that were already burning somewhere behind her eyes.

The look in Hannibal's eyes was far from what he was actually feeling. It was neutral and calm.

"Clarice… Don't make this any more difficult than it already is."

"What? Make what more difficult?"  Her question was useless. Deep inside she already knew what he was going to say.

"I'm leaving, Clarice. For good."

 It felt like a slap in her face. Dazed, she felt how he took his hands from her face. The warmness left by them quickly disappeared. Like looking through a fog she saw how he took a step backwards. The distance between them was only a meter or so but for Clarice it was eternity. That of loneliness and despair.

"I'll be damned if I'm going to lose you tonight…" Her voice was the voice of a person with a lethal wound.

Dr. Lecter looked at her and for a while, she thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye. The image was soon gone.

"Clarice, I'm sorry. I am. I love you. Goodbye." With that, he turned around and walked away.

The glass in Clarice's hand fell to the ground and broke into thousands of pieces. The sound was the sound of her breaking heart.


	2. Chapter 2

2/11 " You are still my love and my life          Still my one and only…" 

                      ABBA –  My Love My Life

After hours of tossing and turning on the living room sofa Clarice had sunk into a restless sleep. Her dreams were odd and they made her talk in her sleep; that forgotten and forbidden language we can't understand when awake. The words that left her lips were horrible to hear in their echo desperate as a death of a child. Her skin was cold but perspiring as her eyes, rolling under her lids, saw the dreadful imageries her mind created.

The walls of the house creaked because of the wind blowing outside. Her eyes flung open.

"Hannibal?"

The house was as silent as a tomb. No comforting closeness of his body, no gentle whisper from his lips to ease her nightmares. 

She sank back into the false world of her subconscious. Had she even really been awake she wouldn't remember in the morning that she had called him, over and over again, during the dark hours of the night. 

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She woke up just before dawn. For a single second, only one heartbeat, she had no recollection of what had happened and felt relaxed, looking forward for the day to come. Then the next second brought the memory with itself and drove away all positive feelings.

He's gone.

A clock ticked somewhere in the house. The thoughts came to her in drops like the breathing of a tuberculosis patient. 

Tick. _Over_

Tock. _Hannibal_

Tick. _Why_

Tock. _Gone_

She felt she wasn't able to breathe properly. Closing her eyes and concentrating she inhaled deeply.

Why did he do it? Doesn't he love me anymore? What did I do wrong, why wasn't I enough for him? Why didn't he explain, tell me what's wrong? So we could have fixed it? Why? I can't understand this. I thought we were fine… Better than fine. I thought we were in love.

She put her hands on her face and realized her cheeks were wet. She had been crying and she hadn't even noticed it. 

I don't want to feel like this. I don't want to cry after him. Never did I believe this day would come; I'm crying because of a man. I hate myself for being this weak, but I can't help it. What am I supposed to do now? I've built my whole life around him. God, how foolish I have been! I have lost everything. Every single fucking thing. He was my life and now if he really is gone I have nothing. This isn't how we intended things to be; how did we get here? What went wrong? We had it all. I believed in you, Hannibal. I gave you my e v e r y t h i n g. Wasn't it enough?

The disconsolately of the thought made her chest ache. Her life, her future, her love – all swept away. It felt like falling from an airplane without a parachute. 

The truth was that Clarice was terrified. Still being in shock after his announcement she didn't quite realize it yet, but soon she would. The center of her world hadn't been taken away from her; it had left from it's own free will. That was the thing that hurt her most; he had left her. And it was torturing not to know why. She didn't know what the problem had been, so she blamed herself for the departure, questioning everything from her intelligence to looks. No matter how stupid she knew it to be she couldn't escape the accusations she kept on throwing against herself.

Wasn't I good enough for you? Was I a bore? What the fuck did I do wrong? You had no right to do this to me, Hannibal. You had no right to rip my heart out my chest and step on it. Jump on it. Or better, why didn't you? Literally? Fuck you, Hannibal, why didn't you just kill me? Would have been a hell of a lot easier for both of us. Coward. You didn't even have the decency to let me out of my misery. You must had known what your leaving would do to me. Are you enjoying this? Does my pain amuse you? Gongrats, cat, you got the canary. 

She got up from the sofa she had been sitting on. As she stood up she felt how her shoulders and neck sent an arrow of pain into her brain. A night on a sofa is seldom a good idea, she had known it last night when she had decided to spend her night on it, but she hadn't been able to sleep in their bed upstairs. Now she would have to go the empty, lifeless room. The task to get clean clothes had never been this hard.

She rose the stairs one step of a time. For some odd reason, a cheesy love song started to play itself in her head.

…Why does my heart go on beating

One step up, hand on the banister.

Why do these eyes of mine cry

Up we go, all the way.

Don't they know it's the end of the world

Only a few steps now.

It ended when you said goodbye…

She stopped and closed her eyes. After she was convinced she had succeeded in exorcising the song out of her head she continued. 

The distance between the upper end of the stairs and the double doors of their mine bedroom was only a few meters. She hesitated to take the missing steps for she didn't know what was waiting for her in the empty room. To see the unused bed would be the final evidence of his absence; whether she was able to take it or not remained to be seen.

For a while, she felt tempted to turn back and live in the evening dress she was wearing for the rest of her life, but knew that to turn back now would be nothing but lying to herself. She would have to face his leaving sooner or later. Though she, at the moment, would have preferred the latter, she walked to the doors and opened them. 

The cool air greeting her scented faintly like vanilla and white musk. It felt as if the air of that room would have been softer on her skin than the air in the other rooms. Deliberately torturing herself she allowed her look sweep the room and didn't even try to block the memories floating into her mind no matter how much they tore her.

… Hannibal, still at sleep, lies in the bed. Clarice has gotten up and opened the curtains; the first beams of the rising sun are starting to creep in. She is focused on trying to capture them with a small mirror in her hand; as she succeeds in to gather them as a one, bright ray she smiles like a little girl. Carefully she points the beam to her lover's eyes. He is awake in a second and pretends to be angry with her – With not very good outcome; a few moments later they are already making love. 

A smothered sob escaped her. The extract of their life she recalled had took place only a few days before.

"You bastard... I hate you!"

As the words had left her lips she wished they were true. Yet they were not and she knew they probably never would be.

It would make this so much easier if I could hate him. I can't. I just can't. That son of a bitch broke my heart and I can't even hate him. Well, I hope he is really happy now. Really satisfied with himself.

Skillfully keeping her eyes away from the bed she gathered the things she needed and left. The sound of the closing door sounded disgustingly final to her. 

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Closer than she would have believed was the man Clarice was aching for. Dr Hannibal Lecter was living, at the moment, in a nearby hotel. Of course he knew he should have gone further but leaving Clarice had been much more difficult than he had ever been able to imagine. The thought that she wasn't physically so far away eased his being, though very little. 

He sat by the large window in an old yet comfortable and stylish chair. From an outsider it would have looked like he had been admiring the view, but the truth couldn't have been further. His look wasn't focused on anything; he just stared. Had he even really saw what he was looking at it would have not appealed to him, though it must be said that the view was magnificent. In his eyes everything was hideous and ugly; it seemed to him like he was watching the world with a fast forward –button on. Everything beautiful turned to ugly and everything that mattered changed to unimportant. 

Dr Lecter was a man who never had had problems with himself. He had always been fond of his own company – the thing that had kept him from turning into a creature like Miggs during the long years of his imprisonment. Always content with himself. That had changed; now, Dr Lecter was a man who loathed himself. He hated himself because of what he had done to Clarice. The look in her eyes on that faithful evening had burned itself in his soul forever and he knew it would be there till the day he would die.

"Well, it's not going to be long anymore."

His silent voice absorbed in the emptiness of the room.


	3. Chapter 3

_"…Io non posso fuggir ch'ella non vegna _

_ne l'imagine mia, _

_se non come il pensier che la vi mena…"_

Dante Alighieri

I cannot run away, that she does not 

come to my mind anew, 

for 'tis my very thought that brings her there. 

Dr Lecter lay in the broad bed of the hotel room. His eyes were closed but he wasn't sleeping. The pain, physical at the moment, tearing him made his heart beat like a it had been a bird trying to escape from the cage made out of his ribs. His breathing was fast and superficial. Yet not a sound escaped his lips as he suffered pains intolerable for most people.

As the claws of his illness tore him he turned for release to the recollection which had always brought him joy and peace.

_…Dr Lecter moves with the speed of light in the palace of his memory. He feels that the palace isn't as safe or secured as it has been; the enemy is getting closer. Here and there he can sense holes in the walls and some rooms have vanished. From time to time the walls move as if they were alive or about to fall down. _

_On his left now is a room which first revealed his sickness to him; it has almost disappeared. When he first noticed the changes in his mental surroundings he was alarmed, though the errors taking place were close to unimportant; sometimes he wasn't able to visualize all the details or remember the color of some object. But the changes enlarged as - he knows this now- his sickness conquered more of his body and ate both his physical and mental strength. When it came to the point that certain doors of the palace remained closed to him and after that, vanished, he had already realized what was going on. The sickness eating him from inside was lethal. _

_Dr Lecter has accepted the fact that he doesn't have much time left. He is even shortening it by not taking nothing but the absolutely necessary medicines. This is because the life of a sleeping vegetable does not interest him; he wishes to stay mentally as sharp as he is now all the way to the end._

_He has now arrived to the center of the palace in which he has gathered his most precious memories of the love of his life. Dr Lecter stops and stays still. He waits patiently for her to materialize from the shadows. Time, though it makes no difference in here, passes and she does not come. Dr Lecter is nervous. He needs her now, to put out the fire burning him._

_Finally, something happens. Immediately Dr Lecter notices that things aren't the way they were supposed to be; the atmosphere isn't relaxing and pleasant, as it should. He turns and sees her, and she is a horrible sight. Her eyes are bottomless wells in which opens the endless, lifeless space and they seem to radiate freezing coldness wherever she looks at. Her hair is a mess and her body is emaciated, nothing but bones and the gray skin over them. Her clothes, if they can be called that, are only rags around her. But the most horrifying thing in her are her ears, burnt from his words, and her mouth, just a bloody gush crossing her skull-like face. She stands there, looks at him and the weight of his guilt is crushing him._

_"Clarice… What have I done to you? Forgive me, Clarice, forgive me!" _

_The creature, which his mind is playing for Clarice to him, grabs its chest and twitches. In the end of its white, thin arm, in its fingers, which look like little snakes, is now a piece of meat, dripping blood. His knowledge of anatomy tells him it's a heart._

_Creature-Clarice speaks and its voice is as gruff as the rustle of dry leaves and equally dead._

_"This is what you wanted. Take it… I don't need it anymore." The voice is inhumane and raises images of cemeteries and forgotten, bitter spirits._

_Dr Lecter is horrified. "NO! I never wanted this, believe me… I love you." He feels helpless; a feeling which he does not appreciate, especially in these surroundings. A wave of dizziness washes over him.  _

_The creature laughs joyless, shallow laughter. Some blood, almost black, drips from its mouth. "Love?"_

_Dr Lecter is barely able to maintain his consciousness. "…Yes."_

_Creature's dreadful travesty of a smile reveals its toothless, bleeding gums. "A monster like you? Admit it, you NEVER loved me. You are glad you were able to hurt me. Look at me," The creature spins around. Dr Lecter smells death and decaying. "Ain't I pretty? Do you SEE how pretty you've made me? Aren't you proud of yourself?" With its every cutting word it sucks his life force.  _

_Dr Lecter's answer is nothing but a powerless whisper. "No, no… I love… You…" The words burn his throat like liquid metal.  _

_And then, he falls through the darkness, away from the thing he can still hear jeering after him._

_"Love? Love? A monster like you? LOVE?"_

He looses his consciousness with an insane laughter in his ears.

Hours later he woke up. His every muscle was aching and he knew he would soon have a major headache. He felt weak both physically and mentally; the horror of meeting Clarice like that in her mind was almost too much for him to take. 

_I have killed her, ripped her heart out of her chest. I have stole her joy of living._

 The pain the realization caused was much worse than the physical pain his sickness made him suffer. Never had he wanted anything bad for her and now, to see what he had done to her… It was pure torture. In some level he understood that the Clarice he had seen was only a creation of his mind; the guilt he experienced over what he had done denied him the comfort that the normal recollection of her would have brought. Yet there was a truth hidden in the awful imagery, he knew it. Though it was most likely that the changes in her appearance didn't exist in the real world, the damages he had done to her inner balance could be impossible to fix. Not only had he betrayed her trust but he hadn't given any kind of explanation for why he did what he did; a thing that he now bitterly regretted. He wasn't sure how Clarice was feeling but was quite convinced she blamed herself for the situation. As he thought about the matter further, he began to see the terrible mistake he had made, and started to wonder what the hell he had been thinking of. Poor Clarice, abandoned so many times in her life – and what did the one she loved do to him? Dr Lecter was ashamed. 

_Lost in my own fears I didn't see the whole impact this would had on her. How could I have acted so foolish? God's madman, that's what I am._

He got up and felt slightly dizzy. The medicines he was taking kept most of the pain away and, hopefully, slowed the cancer down a bit, but as a side effect he lost some of his equilibrium and became easily nauseous. Headache neither was cheap with its visitations.

Slowly but steady he walked to the chair in which he had sat uncountable amount of time during the time he had spent in the hotel. Not that he would have known how long it had been; a year, a month, a week, a day? An hour? He didn't have the faintest idea. He didn't care – without Clarice all he wished for was a quick death. Yet he couldn't even think about lowering himself to the level of actually committing suicide. Though he had taken many lives he had an appreciation towards his own, if not very high at the moment.

Dr Lecter sat down and made himself comfortable. He turned the CD-player in the shelf on with the remote and closed his eyes to concentrate on listening to Albinoni-Giazotto's Adagio. Melancholic yet unbelievably beautiful music tempted him to open the doors of his memory palace but he dared not for he was afraid what might wait him there. He would go back, absolutely, but not right now. He was too weak, too stressed to fight his demons. To fight one's inner monsters is the most difficult war in the world and he didn't feel prepared for it now, knowing that it might very well be his last. He had no desire to leave this world as the loser of that battle, as a man with a broken mind. 

As for now he had other, more important matters to think about. The image of distorted Clarice still plagued him. It's like when you know that the door is locked but you still have to check; Dr Lecter knew that Clarice was still the same, beautiful woman she had been on the last time he had laid his eyes on her, but it just wasn't enough. Surely he acknowledged his own foolishness but he couldn't help it. The croaking thing in his mind had been too vibrant, too real for him to ignore it. So what was there for him to do to prove himself wrong? He couldn't just go and see her. It wasn't even an option, no matter how much he would have wanted it. Nor could he sneak in the shadows and spy on her; he wasn't sure at all if he could stay away from her once he would have seen her again. The only sensible resolution was to use an outsider.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number. The option he was about to use didn't please him but it would have to do for now.

After a short moment a man answered in the other end of the line. By his voice Dr Lecter categorized him aged between 35 to 45. His accent revealed that he didn't use English very much but chose of words and grammar proved that often enough to speak the language satisfyingly.  His voice was low and almost melodious; it was a pleasing voice.

"Yes?" 

"Luca Arnone?"

"Who's asking?"

"Dr Golding."

The tone of the man's voice changed immediately to more respective. "Yes, Dr Golding. I'm sorry, I didn't recognize your voice – the connection is very bad.

"Mr. Arnone, do you remember our agreement?"

"Of course, of course. But I got the impression you didn't want my services after all."

"I do now."

"Yes. I follow the contact we made?"

"Please do. And get to work as soon as you can – now, if possible. I'll compensate all your financial losses."

"I'm already on my way to the airport, Dr Golding."

"And, Mr. Arnone... One more thing."

"Yes?"

"If you as much as lay a finger on her you will regret. This is not a threat but a promise."

"Yes, yes, I understand. Perfectly." 

"Good."

Dr Lecter didn't wait for him to answer and hang up the phone. As he felt he pain starting to rise again he leaned back and prepared himself for it. The night ahead would be long.


	4. Chapter 4

The End of the World  4/11 

Luca Arnone, or as the underworld knew him, the Shadow, had arrived to Buenos Aires only about an hour ago but was already working. Efficiency was one of his trademarks; reliability was the other. At the age of 38 he was already a veteran on the field of spying, tailing and all the other things related. His services, regardless of their price, were always needed in some part of the globe. He was never out of work.

The task he had gotten this time interested him. A man who called himself Dr Golding had contacted him; Luca doubted it was his real name. His customers seldom went by their true identities. He had talked to the man only once, and based on that conversation, which had taken place a few weeks ago, the man had hired him to follow a certain woman. Luca had been pleased to get such an easy but well-paid job for a change. The persons he usually was hired to follow weren't so easy to even find. Looking forward for the job as he was he had been disappointed when Dr Golding had cancelled their deal. Luca hadn't asked why; it wasn't his business. He was used to the fact that people had second thoughts.

Luckily, yesterday Dr Golding had contacted him again and renewed their contract. Now, as he had

arrived to the warm and generous city of Buenos Aires Luca thanked him for changing his mind.

He was sitting in a cafe, going through the notes made from his first conversation with Dr Golding. He didn't know the woman's name or what she looked like, but he had her address. It was more than enough. 

Luca had gotten specific instructions of how to handle this case. He wasn't allowed to cause any kind of inconvenience to the woman, nor was he permitted to contact her in person. All he was ordered to do was to follow her if and when she left her home and report to Dr Golding. Any kind of observation, which would in any way intrude upon her privacy, was strictly forbidden.

Never leave for tomorrow what you can do today being his motto Luca got up, left money on the table to cover both his drink and generous tip and left. He jumped into his rented car and headed for the direction of the address only stored in his memory.

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Clarice lay on the bed of their very rarely used guestroom. She had no interest what so ever in sleeping alone in the king-sized four-poster nor was she eager to spend another night on the living room sofa. The arrangement she had come up with wasn't the most comfortable but it would have to do until she was able to think something else. At the moment, she wasn't.

She was a wreck and she knew it, thank you very much. Something had died inside her when Dr Lecter had walked out on her, and she wasn't sure at all whether that something could be brought back to life or not. The feeling she spent most of her time with was total numbness. Only from time to time a wave of pain beyond any kind of description washed over her, leaving her shaken and empty. Between those mind-stabbers she felt nothing and was quite content with that. She didn't need or want that kind of agony she had experienced on the days after his leaving. Sure, all her feelings and angst would probably burst out on some beautiful day but until that she was glad about her emotional anesthetic. 

As she lay there she came to think that she should probably leave the house for a change. After he had been gone she hadn't as much as put her nose out of the house, and it started to show; there was only the light in the fridge. Of course she could send the maid to the grocery – if she hadn't kicked her and all the other servants out. Poor maid, how could she have known that the master of the house had left; she had only done her job and laid the table for two. Too bad Clarice hadn't felt very understanding at the moment - She had thrown a fit and everybody except herself out. It was interesting, though, how she wasn't even embarrassed over the way she had acted. She just didn't care.

Despite her emotional ignorance she couldn't help thinking constantly what had went wrong. The

question, in which she was afraid she would never get a satisfying answer, tormented her on her every waking hour. It was tiring and frustrating but there was nothing she could have done to stop herself. No matter how much she reasoned herself she wasn't able to keep the self-accusations away. The constant guilt and regret because of something she wasn't even able to name made her weak and being weak made her dislike herself. That kind of opinion naturally lengthened the list of her negative qualities, which, she was convinced, had driven him away. Her situation was difficult to say the least. 

Sighing she got up and made her way to the bathroom. On the way she decided that she would walk to the store; maybe the exercise would ease her being at least a little bit.

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Luca had parked his car a few houses from the one he was supposed to keep an eye on. He had been

sitting there for only about an hour, smoking and drinking coke, when the front door opened and a figure  stepped out. He squinted to see the woman who had came out but the afternoon sun shone too brightly in his eyes. Without any kind of fuss he watched as she walked down the pavement in the opposite direction, away from him. She seemed to be buried in her thoughts; her gait was slow and not altogether straight. 

After the woman had gained a lead of about 120 feet Luca got out of his car and locked the doors.

Lighting a cigarette he started to follow her, keeping his distance but not losing sight of her.

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Clarice walked slowly. The bright sun made her head ache and the heat was oppressive. The rich scents she usually enjoyed made her nauseous. All in all the brilliant idea to walk into the grocery now started to suck big time. True, she could turn around and go back to get the car but… Like it would matter. She  could just as well walk now that she was at it. Who gave a fuck anyway?

Distracted in her thoughts as she was she didn't notice the curb before she tripped over because of it.

Thanks to her reactions like those of a cat she didn't fall down completely but landed on her knees. 

"FUCK!!!!"

She threw the keys and wallet in her hand to the street.

A man walking on the other side of the street gave her a very slow look. As a return, she gave him the finger.

"What are you looking at?!"

The man scampered away without looking back.

Did she know she was acting foolishly? Of course. She knew she was acting in a way which never would have done when Dr Lecter around, and perhaps it was the very reason behind her manners. She needed something to convince herself that she was still alive and able to feel something – if nothing else but physical pain and anger caused by it. Under the time she had been without him she had successfully buried herself in her pain and misery. As a result she felt she wasn't able to breathe as she spent her time in emotional numbness and denial. 

Sighing heavily she gathered her belongings and rose. She would have much to do with herself before she would be able to function normally again.

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Luca watched the woman with an interest as she was throwing her things around the street. That was a fierce one, he mused. Oh, there goes the finger to an innocent passer-by. Fierce, indeed. 

For a while he thought about helping her up, then dismissed the idea as he heard Dr Golding's metallic, slightly threatening voice in his head.

Do not contact her in any way. Do not let her know you even exist. 

The customer is always right, though it bothered him to see a beautiful woman left to manage on her own. She seemed to handle it well, though; after a few moments on the ground she took her keys and wallet and got up. She continued as if nothing had happened. She might have favored her other foot slightly but it was probably just an illusion.

After a while they, Clarice first and Luca following, arrived to her destination. Luca surmised it might look odd if he just stood outside so he followed her inside. He was convinced that the woman hadn't noticed him so he felt pretty confident about going to a small, enclosed space at the same time as her. The quiet clings from the doors announced both of them.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Clarice walked between the shelves and picked a can from here and a bottle from there. She didn't feel like buying anything fancy; without Hannibal and the servants the fine products would be left unused. She had never been a wizard in the kitchen.

After she had got the things she wanted she paid for them and headed out. On the door she realized she had left her wallet on the counter. Cursing to herself she turned around.

It hurts surprisingly much to hit another person, especially when your shoppers fall right to your toes. 

"Damn!"

She glanced at the man she had bumped into, mumbled her apologizes and kneeled down to pick up her groceries. Some part of her wondered why the man had looked so scared; the statement on his face had looked like he had seen something he wouldn't and perhaps shouldn't have. 

As she picked up her things she heard how the man took a few steps, then stopped, hesitated for a while and came back. On the next moment he was kneeling next to her.

"Let me help you with those." His voice was melodious and deep.

She'd be damned if she weren't even able to clean her own messes. "It's ok, I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can. I insist." Did she hear amusement in his voice?

Now irritated, Clarice raised her look to the stubborn man. He was about 40 in years, dark and probably quite tall. His hair was so black it seemed to absorb light. His eyes were black, too, or that's how they seemed in the bright afternoon sun. He hadn't shaved in a day or two; short stubble covered his jaw. He was probably from some Mediterranean country though it was difficult to say for sure. There was something in him which was impossible to categorize on that instant. All in all, hadn't she been so heart-broken she would have noticed the man was quite attractive. 

"Really, it's ok." She tried to sound as convincing as possible. 

Surprisingly, the man gave in. A flicker of something was shown in his eyes; guilt or regret, perhaps, though Clarice didn't understand why.

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry for bumping into you like that." He straightened his trim body and quickly walked away.

Somehow, Clarice had the feeling he meant it in more ways than one.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

By the time she got home she had already forgotten the strange man. After she had unpacked her bags, she made herself a drink, if vodka on the rocks fills the definition, and headed for the living room. 

The room was pleasantly cool and dark; the afternoon sun didn't shine in there. Clarice sat on the sofa and turned the radio on. The song playing was ABBA's "Knowing Me, Knowing You." She closed her eyes and relaxed. 

…No more carefree laughter 

_Silence ever after _

_Walking through an empty house, tears in my eyes _

_Here is where the story ends, this is goodbye _

Clarice couldn't escape the similarities of the song and her situation. Had their story really ended? The music made shivers ran down on her spine.

_Knowing me, knowing you _

_There is nothing we can do _

_Knowing me, knowing you _

_We just have to face it, this time we're through _

_Breaking up is never easy, I know, but I have to go _

Knowing me, knowing you, it's the best I can do… 

A sudden fit of annoyance filled her. Was it? Was it, to accept the fact that he had just left, the best she could do? Hell no. 

After a while of thinking about the matter Clarice couldn't understand why she hadn't even thought of this earlier. She deserved an explanation, a reason. Why on earth would she settle for her so called destiny? It was not like she would have done so before. Damn it, Dr Lecter himself had called her a warrior. What a fine warrior she was now; drowned in self-pity and self-disgust. That would change now; she swore to herself that she would find and confront him. 

Were he able to look her in the eyes and tell her that it was over, that he didn't love her anymore… Then she would leave and agree with the song; there really would be nothing to do. She understood that she couldn't force him to love her but what she could force him to do was to tell her why he had left. 

He owes me that much.

It would probably a mission next to impossible to find him if he wished the opposite. But were there

a person who would be able to do it Clarice was the one. After all, she was a trained FBI-agent and had intimate (to say the least) knowledge about him. She would have all her life to find him.

Too bad the clock was ticking at a frantic and relentless pace.


	5. Chapter 5

Luca didn't feel very comfortable in the spacious hall of the finest hotel in Buenos Aires. The fact that he had used to all kind of surroundings aside, he wished to get out of this one as soon as possible. He wasn't able to explain to himself why he so badly wanted to escape from the situation that hadn't even arrived yet; maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had, even if not meaning to, broke the contract with Dr Golding. The odd Dr Golding whose voice alone made him uncomfortable, perhaps even tad scared. A feeling he hadn't had in many, many years.

The reason behind his being in the lobby was that he was supposed to meet the man in question and rapport the results his work under the last few days had brought. In his breast pocket he had a pile of photographs taken from the woman Luca had been assigned to follow. Most of them had been taken as she had been walking on a street or driving in her car. The negatives were included; something that Dr Golding had insisted on.

Luca looked at the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes to 9pm; they were supposed to meet in the bar at even. He figured it would be wise to be at present a bit forehand. If for nothing else, at least to get a sneak peak of the man before he himself would be spotted. 

Luca was a man who liked to stay one step ahead.

He went to the bar, ordered a drink and sat down in a table which did not show to the entrance. He lit a cigarette and leaned back.

Minutes passed. 20:58. 20:59. 21:00. 21:01. Dr Golding was late. 

21:02. 21:03. Luca felt slightly annoyed. 

21:04. 21:05. He felt a bit uncomfortable; what was going on? 

Surely Dr Golding must have realized how important it was to be in time? What was he, a total idiot? Luca didn't feel so nervous anymore. This Dr Golding, he was probably just a goofy old man with a lost sense of time. 

Should I leave?

As a return to his inner question, a waiter approached his table. He said nothing, just gave him a note and left.

He came to think that he had, perhaps, jumped to conclusion with the goofy old man. The message was short and clear.

Mr. Arnone- 

_I believe that our business could be dealt with much less inconvenience with you in the same table as I._

J.G.

J.G. J. Golding. Luca turned around. In a table he hadn't even noticed sat a man in a flawless suit, his hair combed back and a glass of wine in front of him. As Luca looked at his direction, he nodded ever so slightly. Something in the gesture made him think a rattlesnake preparing for a bite. He pushed the image away.

Clinging in the remains of his stylish entrance he rose from his table and walked over to Dr Golding. Feeling somewhat stupid he raised his hand, holding the note, a bit and tried simultaneously to shrug his shoulders. He ended up looking like a winged duck.

"I didn't realize you were already here."

"So I noticed."

His voice gave him the chills. 

Dr Golding gestured him to sit down. "Can I get you anything?"

Luca shook his head. "I'm fine, thank you."

A moment of silence felt awkward to Luca. Dr Golding didn't seem to mind.

Luca cleared his throat. "So, Dr Golding."

"So, Mr. Arnone." 

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything you can tell me." 

"Ok then. So, I have been watching for her under the time I have been here in Buenos Aires. She leaves the house from time to time, mainly to go to the store. I haven't seen any guests or her visiting anyone. She stays inside the house pretty much and stays up late; sometimes the lights are on whole night. She listens to music sometimes, most of it comes from the radio, I think."

"What does she look like?" Did he hear a hint of anxiety in his voice?

"Pretty damn –" Luca closed his mouth with a snap as he saw the look in his eyes. Satan must look something like Dr Golding at that instant. It was quite obvious Luca's opinion wasn't needed or even wanted.

Luca gulped. "She looks ok. Normal. I have pictures." He took the envelope from his pocket and gave it to Dr Golding. Very carefully he avoided touching him.

Dr Golding took the envelope and peered it a bit. "Is everything here? Negatives?"

Luca nodded. "Yes."

Dr Golding put it in his pocket. "Now, Mr. Arnone, as for the financial business… What do I owe you?"

Luca was puzzled. He had assumed the gig would last longer. "What? Now already? But I thought…"

"No, this will be all, thank you." His tone left no room for arguing.

"Ok, ok. I understand." He took a piece of paper from his pocket, wrote a number and handed it to Dr Golding.

He glanced at it. "I'll have it delivered to you."

Dr Golding rose. He didn't offer his hand which made Luca grateful. He would have not dared to touch that man. 

As he was about to leave he spoke one last time.

"Mr. Arnone…"

Luca looked at him.

"I recommend you leave town immediately. Buenos Aires can be… lethally hot, so to speak, in this time of year." His quick smile, like a stab of a knife in its sharpness, made Luca start unwittingly. "Just a friendly advice."

Luca tried to smile but succeeded only in indefinite grimacing. "Yes, thank you… I will. 

As Dr Golding walked away, gracefully as a dancer, Luca couldn't help but to sigh with relief. That was one scary son of a bitch. The fact that he had dealt with pretty much everything; from the most powerful Dons to the most skillful assassins aside, there was something in Dr Golding that made the short hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 

Maybe it was his unnatural calmness or too intelligent, knowing eyes. Maybe it was the probing gaze which felt as if it bored into his brains and would see all his darkest secrets. Whatever it was he was afraid of that small, sleek man though he didn't want to admit it to himself.

This brought him to an interesting question: What did this Dr Golding want from the woman Luca had been following? What was it between them? Was the woman in some kind of danger? He knew he shouldn't bother himself with it. What happened in his customers' lives was none of his business. Yet he couldn't help thinking about the beautiful woman whose being was filled with some kind of sadness and emotional absence. 

_The woman walks right against him. Shit, this shouldn't have happen; she shouldn't have seen him. The woman drops her bags and curses. Right before she leans down to pick up her things and Luca walks away he sees a pair of the most beautiful blue eyes. _

_After a few steps he stops and, not being able to resist himself though he knows he should, goes back and kneels next to the woman. He wants to hear her voice; he wants her to talk to him._

_"Let me help you with those." Oh God, how beautiful she is!_

_The woman doesn't look pleased. "It's ok, I can handle it."_

_Yes, I bet you can but a beautiful creature like you shouldn't be left ignored. "I'm sure you can. I insist." Do I ever! Just talk to me again, please._

_As she raises her look to him his heart misses a beat. She is gorgeous. Luca just stares at her._

_"Really, it's ok." Her voice, like that of an angel, brings him back to reality. To the reality where he is breaking his rules and because of what? Because of a pair of blue eyes. _

"Ok, ok. I'm sorry for bumping into you like that." Regretting his actions Luca stands up and quickly walks away. 

Hmm hmm. That wasn't good at all, to let her see him and better, to talk with her. How stupid can a man be? But perhaps it didn't matter so much since Dr Golding didn't need his services anymore.

Luca glance over his shoulder to make sure Dr Golding had left. He had.

He took a picture out of his pocket. In the picture was the woman we know as Starling, Clarice M. Gently he let his forefinger run over the woman whom the picture had immortalized. She was so beautiful, just the kind of woman Luca had been looking for. Luca put the picture back in his pocket and thought hard. He'd have a few gigs waiting for him, all well paid and relatively easy. That added to Dr Golding's friendly advice he figured that there weren't any reason why he should stay in Buenos Aires… But on the moment the woman had walked into his arms, as he liked to think it, he had known that he wouldn't leave before he would know her name. And perhaps something else, too. Never had he believed in love at first sight and probably he still didn't, but there was something in that woman that attracted her exceptionally much. He couldn't say for sure what it was; perhaps it had something to do with the odd feeling that he had seen her before. But it was impossible, right? 

Well, no matter what fascinated him so much, for Luca she was a sealed box waiting to be opened and he wouldn't leave until he would have at least peeked in.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Back in his hotel room Dr Lecter felt slightly strange. The feeling had nothing to do with his physical state but with the envelope on the bed. It seemed to stare at him with its whole white faceless back. Dr Lecter knew it was absurd to think that an envelope would actually be able to commit the act of staring but a man can't help himself. Especially when the evidence of his handwork in the meaning of his life was captured in the photos the envelope held. He knew he wouldn't see the creature of his nightmares but yet felt nervous. What if… No, it would be better to get this straight now.

He closed the distance between himself and the bed and took the envelope. Slowly he turned it around and opened it; and stack of photos tumbled out onto the white bedspread.

Do I want to do this? Yes.

With the determination of a desperate man he took the photos out and forced himself to lay his eyes on her, captured in two-dimensional space.

Clarice walking on the street, Clarice in her car, Clarice opening the front door. Clarice, Clarice. Beautiful, strong Clarice. Human Clarice.

Dr Lecter closed his eyes and let the photos fall from his hands to the bed. Now that he had had his assurance he couldn't bare to look at her anymore. One more photo, he feared, and his bleeding heart would burst out from his chest.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

An uncountable amount of time later the photos are still scattered over the bed. A few is on the floor, too. Dr Lecter sits in the chair again and allows Bach's Aria flow through him. He does not wish to see the photos ever again.

We, naturally, are a bit more curious.

One of the pictures has captured Starling on her way to the grocery. At first, it looks like any other picture. But had Dr Lecter chosen to study as carefully as we do now, he would have noticed an interesting detail. Clarice, photographed behind so that her back is to the camera, is on her way into the store. The glass doors in front of her reflect her wholly and the reflection is surprisingly clear. From it can be seen that her eyes are looking straight to the flashlight also reflecting from the doors. Or perhaps her eyes are focused on the photographer whose reflection is also faintly seen. Either way, the result is the same.

She had seen Luca – again.


	6. Chapter 6

Clarice stood by the living room window, her eyes focused on nothing particularly, only staring to the darkness. The night was as black as her heart and equally inconsolable. The night in its darkness and infinity, the black shadows full of nameless, faceless creatures, did not scare her. What did, though, was the very reason behind her emotional weariness; she had came to the conclusion that she would probably never find Dr. Lecter on her own. And whom could she even ask for help? Call the FBI? The thought made her smile a bitter smile.

"Hello, I would like a report a missing person. His name? Hannibal Lecter."

Well, they would come running. But perhaps it wasn't what she wanted. The help of society was provided only to those who followed the rules of it. In all cases, not even for them - this she had learnt during the years in the Bureau. 

She was frustrated. None of her efforts of finding Dr. Lecter had had any outcome; she had met only dead ends and had had more than her share of false hope. Of course she should have known that he was the master of hide and seek, but yet she had allowed herself to hope. As the time had passed and all she had ended up with was lost nerves, little by little she had started to feel the cold hand of giving up clinging itself around her heart.

It didn't feel good.

Nothing did these days. For the first time after his leaving she started to realize that he might actually be gone for good. Forever without him didn't sound very tempting. But did she have any other choice? At this point she seemed to have no other options. 

The most ironic thing was that she knew she would be able to live her life without him. She wouldn't die, and it was perhaps the very thing that frightened her the most. She would survive, she would live on – but her life would have no use. No happiness. No meaning. It was interesting, though, how she now knew wholly what he meant for her. Like the saying goes, you don't know what you've got until it's gone. With him she had found herself; it had been the first time when she had been only Clarice. She hadn't been Clarice, the orphan or Starling, the FBI-Agent. She had been Clarice. This thought had led her to a realization: She didn't need him to defy herself. She needed him for him; not for her. That's why she would be able to live without him and that's why she would never be happy again without him.

As she analyzed the time during which he had been gone she was able to categorize it in a few sections. The first had been absolute shock and denial. She really hadn't understood a thing. Now that she thought of that time, which she didn't like to do, she didn't even remember anything clear. All she was able to name was pain. It had been cutting, throbbing, burning... It had been everything and she had been nothing.

The second had been self-pity. Her life had felt like a TV-show, a bad one, but still. She had refused to take his leaving as reality; all she had do was swallowing in self-pity and disgust. But somewhere, deep inside, she had been convincing herself that this wasn't happening, and had succeeded in it pretty well. An outsider in her own life, that's what she had been.

And now she had come to this. She started to understand, to believe. She started to give up hope. The possibility that he might not actually come back, that this was happening for real and not in some facade of her life terrified her. 

Where to go from here? There seemed to be no open roads for her. Without some sort of a miracle she would most likely be doomed in loneliness and unhappiness for the rest of her life. It would have been stupid even to think that she could get over him and find someone else. There simply was no else for her; Hannibal had been - and was – the one and only for her. She would never ever be complete without him. The question was, how was he able to do it? How had he been able to walk out on her and break the bond of trust between them?

She felt like having a cigarette. Not for a long time had she smoked at all but recently she had found it calmed her down to some extent, though she didn't particularly like the habit. She hated the smell of cigarette in her clothes and hair and the taste it left in her mouth but she smoked anyway. Not much but a little bit.

Quietly she went out. The lights of the house had been off so her eyes were adjusted to the dark, allowing her to see everything as clearly as possible. The darkness of the night was different from the darkness of the living room. It was softer and more complete; it was like liquid which filled every sparing space. For a moment she imagined that the darkness would absorb into her and make her a part of itself, carrying her away in the night only to vanish in the break of dawn.

Not, she mused, such a bad idea.

For a while she just stood on the patio, doing her very best to keep the memories of Dr Lecter away. She managed quite well; practice makes you better. Her eyes open but not seeing much she emptied herself from all kind of emotions. The moment took her over and she willingly lost herself in it, welcoming the all-conquering night in her heart and mind. 

That was until she saw movement down in the garden

What the fuck…?

For a second she felt absurd hope that it would be Dr. Lecter. But what the hell would he be doing down there, sneaking in his own garden? No, it couldn't be him. It was silly even to think about it.

Whoever it was, Clarice herself was the only one who had made some kind of visual notion - she had obviously been left unseen. The movement continued, though it was very quiet. Skillful and careful. Hmm. 

She took a step backwards, becoming practically one with the dark corner. She now being close to invisible she had an unhampered view as the uninvited gardener continued his mission in her garden. She heard how the someone moved towards the gate. She reached out to see better, and was rewarded; during the quarter of a second when the light of the lamppost touched the intruder on his way out, she saw and recognized him. It was the man whom she had bumped into and who, she suspected, had photographed her.

Now this was interesting.

He wasn't a policeman, about that she was pretty confident. Was he a cop he would have arrested her a long ago. Besides, he was the only one she had noticed following her around. Policemen seldom, if ever, worked alone. No, he wasn't a cop.

What was he, then?

Some weirdo? Nah… The characterization didn't seem to fit. She remembered the man's features quite vaguely but he had seemed... Clean. Tidy.

Attractive

Not like a weirdo. Hmm. She wasn't quite sure how she should be feeling over the fact that a strange man was following her, photographing her and sneaking in her garden. It was strange and uncomfortable but she wasn't afraid. Not by a long shot; she knew she could take anyone. She had her .45 on the top shelf of her closet if it came to that.

Perhaps the reason to why she wasn't more disturbed by the thought of some man following her was that she had felt a glimpse of hope. She had acknowledged the thought that Hannibal might have something to do with the man but dared not admit it the possibility to herself. Another disappointment, another dead end and she would give up hope for good. Fearing to use her last change she considered the matter very carefully.

What if? What if? What should I do?

The question pounded in her head, making her anxious. She went back inside the house but didn't turn the lights on for she didn't want to see her reflection from the various mirrors. Her lost, tired eyes were the last thing she wanted to see now. What she wanted was an answer; would she had the courage to take the last, mattering step? To put her feet on the path from which was no turning back?

Was it any use pondering it when she knew she couldn't rest until she would?

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

The roar of Luca's car engine sounded uncomfortably loud to him in the silent night. Naturally the woman driving ahead of her couldn't hear it but still it bothered him. How he wished, no matter how stupid it was, that he had been invisible. That way he could be with her every single moment, just watch her. Just adore her.

By now Luca was aware of the fact that he had a serious crush, perhaps even more, to the woman whose name he didn't even know. There hadn't been one even in her front door or mailbox. He hadn't wanted to ask the neighbors, it would have been too obvious. So, in order to get the feel of knowing her better, he had started to call her Nicole in his head. It was, in a way, the final proof of his affection towards her. Luca had wanted to give the beautiful face a name. 

She wasn't 'the woman' anymore. Her name was Nicole.

As her interest had grown during the time he had followed her he hadn't been able, not even willing, to pass the question plaguing him: What was going on between Dr Golding and Nicole? Most important, was she in any kind of danger? In his romantic daydreams he saved her from the odd Dr. Golding and won her, erhm, gratitude, but he didn't wish it for real. Probably because he wasn't sure if he really wanted to face the doctor when he was be really pissed. No-o. 

Thanks to the years in his job during whose he had met all kinds of people Luca had grown to be an excellent judge of character. That fact aside he hadn't been able to get a proper grip from Dr. Golding; he remained intact when his probing was concerned. But had he sensed any kind of hostility towards Nicole? No. He had to admit that. No hostility, anger or hate. Perhaps… sadness. Longing.

Oh crap.

Could that heavenly creature be… married to Dr. Scary-As-Hell? Suddenly Luca's world had a new dark cloud in its sky. Husband and wife? He thought hard about the meeting he had had with him. Had he worn a ring? …..Nnnno. Jackpot!! But it didn't really prove anything, did it. They could be involved… But for real? She, and a man like that? Besides, he was old. Not 'equals dead' but still. 

A car, Nicole's car, parked at the side of the road brought him back to the present. He stepped on the brake before he even realized what he was doing. It wasn't before he got out of his car he realized that this probably wasn't the best idea. Oh, well, no turning back anymore. 

Luca started walking towards her. Though it was dark her appearance made him gasp. Those had to be the tightest jeans he had ever seen. And the T-shirt, not so loose either, left not much room for imagination. She was hot.

As the distance between them was about 5 meters Luca spoke. "Need help?"

The woman – Nicole – had been studying the engine. She turned to him and smiled. "Hi."

Luca felt he was smiling like an idiot and did his best to wipe the statement off. He cleared his throat. "Everything ok?"

Nicole bit her lower lip and looked slightly confused. "Well, no. There's something wrong with my car."

Luca couldn't help staring at her. She was so beautiful. "I could take a look…?"

Her smile seemed to bring light in the darkness. "Would you?"

"Anything for y- a beautiful woman."

She smiled a preppy smile and gestured towards the engine. "You're the man!"

In the safe of the motor hood Luca gathered his thoughts. This was his chance. It was almost too good to be true.

He heard her lovely voice behind his back. "Hey, I know this might sound a bit stupid, but have we met before?

"Umm, well, I think I bumped into you a few days ago."

"Yes! That's it! I knew I've seen you before. I couldn't forget such a handsome face."

Was he blushing???

Luca tried to sound neutral. "Well, there seems to be nothing wrong in here…" He stood up. "This sounds stupid but I have to ask. When was the last time you fueled your car?"

Nicole looked at her with her big, blue eyes. Had he been able to affect to the stream of time he would have blocked it right there and stay in that moment forever.

She fluttered her lashes and looked a bit puzzled. "Fuel..? Oh, no!"

Luca grinned. What a typical woman. "Yeah, cars need that. Don't worry, I'll give you a lift and you can send someone for your car." 

Nicole smiled and looked like and angel. "Oh, thank you, Mr.…?

Luca's heart made an extra leap. "Arnone. Luca Arnone."

Nicole offered her delicate hand. "Kelly Williams. Such a pleasure, Mr. Arnone."

"Please, call me Luca." Oh God, there's that smile again.

"Only if you call me Kelly." 

The two got into Luca's car and headed back for town.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Back in the comfort of her home, 'Kelly' decided it would be a time for shower. She climbed upstairs and slowly undressed herself on the way. The clothes she was wearing disgusted her. It was obvious that some of Hannibal's sense of style had tackled into her along the years.

She went into the bathroom and looked at her reflection. Pursing her lips and fluttering her lashes she tried to continue the fake-out she had kept up when with Luca, but couldn't help laughing. She just looked so unbelievably stupid. 

She had gotten her clothes off now – Kelly Williams was now on the floor and Clarice Starling in the shower. She enjoyed the flow of hot water on her skin.

Luca, Luca, Luca… Are you my chance to find Hannibal? Are you or were you in on his business? I know you, Luca Arnone. It has been many years but I remember you. Luca Arnone… Or should I say The Shadow?

Though Clarice had not the capacity of Dr. Lecter's memory palace she still had an excellent memory to say the least. Somewhere from the forgotten parts of her memory rose an image of Luca Arnone's case file. Hadn't she been so drowned in her pain on the first time they 'met' she would have probably recognized him then. But now she had no doubts of his identity; she had tried to track Luca down several years ago when solving a vague murder case. She never found him. It was probably the Supreme Being's unbelievable sense of irony which had now threw him on her way.

She turned the water off and started shampooing her hair. The scent of vanilla relaxed her and turned her thoughts from Luca to Dr. Lecter.

Did you hire him, Hannibal? If so, why? What the hell is going on here?

She massaged the shampoo in her hair and scalp. As the foam started to drip on her face she closed her eyes and turned the water back on.

I will find you, Hannibal. I will find you and make you answer some questions.

She got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a big, fluffy towel. She decided it would be a good idea to go to bed; after all, she would have a big night ahead of her tomorrow. 

She would have a date. 

She would have to fake, again, but if she achieved what she was after… Were Luca able to give her some direction, even a one hint… It would be more than worth it.


	7. Chapter 7

Clarice looked at her reflection and made a face. The woman in the mirror, naturally, returned the compliment. Though it was her she saw on the smooth surface, it came pretty close to the point where she wouldn't have recognized herself; that far was she from herself both physically and emotionally. As if it hadn't been enough that she looked very strange due to the role she was supposed to play but she also felt completely alienated to her mental state. It wasn't only the fact that she would actually have a date - something she wasn't very used to. That being because she found it quite absurd to call her and Dr Lecter's dinners and nights at the opera as a date. In her previous life, so to speak, she hadn't been very active on the social field; her nights out had been limiting mostly to those compulsory anniversaries, galas and such she had had to participate on the behalf of her job. And now she was about to go on a date with a man who might have the answers to one of her life's most important questions so far. She didn't blame herself for being slightly nervous.

It eased her being, though, that she would be able to hide under the mask of the cute and, um, stupid Kelly Williams, who's resemblance was closer to that of Playmate of the month than Clarice Starling. Had someone asked her why she had chosen a character like that she wouldn't have been able to give a proper answer; maybe it had something to do with the fact that she did feel a bit guilty of going out with another man so she wanted to be as far from her usual self as possible. True, Dr Lecter had left her, so as far as she was concerned she would have been permitted to be the one-woman's charity business for the in-need of the neighborhood and Dr Lecter would have had nothing to say to it, but she couldn't help the way she felt. Now as she was pretending to be something completely different than she really was it helped her a bit when overcoming her second thoughts and feeling that she was doing something wrong.

She looked at herself from the mirror again. A black, short dress she had purchased earlier on the day was on the milestone of sexy and sluttish, the scale perhaps closer to the latter. She didn't feel very comfortable in the dress, it felt like it went too low on the cleavage and was too short from the hemline. It looked good on her, though - something, from which she owed thanks to her daily jogging and general fondness of exercising. 

She had combed her hair up and applied a bit more make-up than usual, still staying inside the borders of classy. In her feet she had black Gucci shoes Hannibal had bought her about a year ago. She wouldn't have wanted to wear anything he had given her but due to the lack of time and patience hadn't been able to find proper shoes herself. She comforted herself with the fact that Hannibal didn't particularly like the shoes and had expressed his regret of buying them. 

_My love, those shoes… Why did I ever buy them? They're not just beautiful enough for you._

His metallic voice, soft at the moment, echoed in her head. She shook her head and he was out. Memorizing wasn't the best way of getting ready to the date she wasn't even looking forward to.

With a sigh she turned around and went downstairs. She left a scent of white musk behind her in the now dark room.

Now in the luxuriously large living room, she wondered if she should have a drink. Just to calm her down a bit. She came to the conclusion that she would but shouldn't as she didn't want to take the risk of loosing any of her perception. If the case were really what she suspected, that Hannibal had hired Luca, it would be difficult to get the information out of him. That was if any of the information in his case file had been accurate; it had clearly proved that he was one of the best, if not the best, on his field.

The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Luca.

As she walked to the door, she underwent a change. She left herself, at least some of herself, to the living room and stepped into the shoes of Kelly Williams. She stepped into her body and just like that, Clarice became Kelly. By the time she had gotten to the door the statement on her face had changed to depressed and worried to happy and open.

The door opened without a sound. Luca was standing there, dressed in a black suit. In his hand he had an Orchid. With a smile he handed it to her.

Clarice took it with a big, fake smile on her face. "Oh Luca, you shouldn't have."

"I couldn't resist. I saw it and I had to buy it; it's almost as beautiful as you."

It was times like this Clarice wished she had been able to blush when she wanted. "Oh, thank you." She smiled some more until she felt her cheeks would burst. "Let me just give this darling some water and then we'll be on our way."

While she was gone Luca tried to calm down. Good heavens how beautiful she was! This evening would be a success. He knew it. It was pity, though, that he wouldn't be able to take her to the finest restaurant in the town it being too close to the hotel he had met Dr Golding. He didn't want to take the risk of running into him. It was too scary a thought.

"Luca? Is everything ok?" Kelly's soft voice brought him back from his thoughts.

He startled a bit. "Yes, I was just thinking about something."

"You just looked a bit pale. A penny for your thoughts?"

"Just some stuff at work." 

He didn't notice the flicker in Clarice's eyes.

She put her hand around his arm. Her touch made him shiver a bit. "Shall we?" Her voice was sweet like honey.

Luca cleared his throat. "We shall."

Now sitting inside his car, Clarice started to have bad feelings about the idea. After all, she hardly knew the man; what the hell was she doing on a date with him? But, on the other hand, she allowed herself feel slightly hopeful. There was obviously something going on, she had seen it from his eyes. She'd be damned if she wouldn't find it out.

Putting Kelly back on she turned to him. Her voice was like a purring of a cat and honestly; she couldn't help wondering if this man was a bit stupid not to see through her façade. "So… Where are we going?"

As Luca said the name of the restaurant Clarice was puzzled. The man wasn't obviously short of cash when looking at his car and clothing but yet he was about to take her into a not-so-classy restaurant. Hmm… Could there be something to it?

She pursed her lips as if she was thinking very hard. Luca noticed it. "You don't like that restaurant?" 

Clarice gave a short laugh and put her hand on his arm resting on the gear stick. "But of course I do! It's just that there's a restaurant not far from here which I haven't tried out yet… And I would have so wanted to visit there…."

Luca had a dilemma in front of him. Please the lady and take the risk of running into Dr Golding or go with the safer option and probably worse his chances towards her? Umm-mm. 

"Ok, we'll go there." Uh-oh. She had better be worth it. Judging from the view her cleavage offered she would be.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Now in the restaurant, Clarice found it easier to keep up the act. The background noise, people chatting and other such distractions ate some of his attention and gave her a chance to breathe more freely from time to time. It was consuming to pretend to something she wasn't, and she was glad she didn't have to do it every day, all the time. I would be hell. One more aspect that made her value the relationship with Hannibal even more. And that only added to her need of getting the answers she was after.

In order to keep her thoughts away from Hannibal in fear of ruining her act she focused all her interest to a mindless chitchat.

"So, Luca, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? What do you do for living and so on?"

"My job? Well, I… I mean, I have my own company."

"Oh? What do you do?"

"Nothing that could ever interest you. It's very boring."

By now it was very clear to Clarice what he wanted; get under her skirt. Her act seemed to be working just fine considering that Luca regarded her as a pretty face and a nice body and nothing else. Though it was pretty close to what she had wanted she had to admit it irritated her a bit. She didn't like him, he reminded her too much of the late Mr. Krendler albeit he was light years from his level of sexists and general idiotism. Any man satisfied with a woman with the intelligent of a cabbage would have annoyed her, and as the man concerned had a great role to play when it came to her happiness it irritated her even more.

But, she reminded herself, she couldn't let these thoughts and feelings show. It would be essential to keep Luca in the belief that she was harmless and empty-headed; maybe that way he would slip out something important. 

Very determinedly she focused all of her to him. She would never forgive herself if she blew this because of her own opinions.

The dinner continued without interruptions and Luca started to relax. What were the odds anyway for Dr Golding being at the restaurant at the same time as they? This would work out just smoothly. His date was beautiful and laughed at his jokes; what more could he ask for? And, considering the way the night had proceeded he was quite hopeful when it came to the deepening their relationship later on. Kelly didn't seem like a cold fish. Not at all.

At the moment they were enjoying their dessert. Luca had forgotten Dr Golding a long time ago, and were he to pop in there and bother them Luca could take him on. He was positive about that, after all, the doc was much older than he. Dr Golding wouldn't have a chance. 

Had his confidence something to do with the glasses of wine he had consumed during the night he didn't bother to analyse. It would have been useful, though, especially when his date's glass had remained intact most of the evening. That, needless to say, he hadn't noticed.

They had almost finished their dessert and were about to get ready to leave. Clarice stood up first.

"Luca, if you don't mind… I'd like to go and powder my nose." 

Luca smiled a wide smile. Women. Always fussing about the way they look. "Not at all. I'll wait outside."

As she walked away he feasted on the sight of her behind. He wouldn't mind to have a piece of that. With any luck, he just might get some soon.

He sat still for a while and amused himself by imagining the possibilities the night ahead offered. Just as he was about to leave the table the waiter approached him. At first he thought something had happened to Kelly and felt a sting of worry. Those thoughts vanished as the waiter, his face totally expressionless, handed him a note.

Three words, written in a fine copperplate, froze his blood.

_I warned you._

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Luca was driving way too fast. Clarice was slightly worried – she didn't wish to end her days in a way or time like this. The circumstances aside or because of them, impossible to say, as she looked at him from the corner of her eye she couldn't help feeling a bit victorious. She was onto something, his behavior proved it. He had literally dragged her out of the restaurant in a terrible rush and hurried her into the car. She wondered what had happened during the time she had been in the little ladies' room.

Better hit the charm-gear on. "Luca…?" Her voice, soft and tempting, demanded for an answer from his mouth pressed as a thin line.

"Yes?" 

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." He glanced at her; there was an odd fire burning in his eyes. He looked like a chased animal.

"Why are we in such hurry, Luca?" 

"I forgot something. I have to… I mean… Work."

_Umm, yes, whatever. Must be some work to get you so freaked out. She tried to sound disappointed. "Does this mean our evening has come to its end?"_

"Yes, I'm afraid so. I'm sorry."

The car stopped. They had arrived at Clarice's. Luca didn't look at her but turned his eyes to the house. "You have a beautiful home."

"Thanks. Would you like to see it inside?"

Luca closed his eyes. What he would have given about that phrase twenty minutes ago! But now all he wanted was to get as far from here - and Kelly - as possible. She wasn't the safest option to hang around with, it was all too clear to him now.

"I'm sorry, I can't. I'd love to, but I can't."

Her reply came with a voice completely unfamiliar to him. It wasn't the voice of a woman with whom he had spent the last hours. This was a voice of a strong, intelligent and most of all determined woman.

"I insist."

Slowly, he turned to her. What he faced wasn't Kelly – or was, but between him and her was her hands and in them a .45. Aimed directly at his forehead.


	8. Chapter 8

As she walked Luca towards the privacy of the house, Clarice was grateful that it was so dark. Not that she would have been worried about the neighbors; the district the house situated was famous for the high walls around the houses and seemingly deaf and blind residents. No, the fear of getting caught wasn't why she silently thanked the higher powers. The reason behind her gratefulness was that the darkness hid her completely. She was excited, nervous, scared, impatient, exhilarated… All of this and more, she felt, showed on her face and she did not wish Luca to notice just how much this meant to her. 

They arrived to the door. Clarice took the keys from her purse and tossed them on the ground at his feet.

"Open the door." She didn't recognize her voice. Did she sound so calm? So cold? When her insides were burning and heart running like a racehorse in the Kentucky Derby?

Luca didn't fight her - he had the brains to realize when it was better not to. He picked up the keys, unconsciously waiting for her to shoot him in the back, and opened the door. It opened just as soundlessly as it had hours before, when he had come to pick her up - something that felt to both of them like an extract from some other dimension.

The house was dark; Luca had an uncomfortable feeling of being eaten alive when he stepped in. The silent voice the closing door made behind them didn't hear far.

She marched him in front of her into the living room. The room didn't seem to fit with the scene it was now witnessing. It was too refined, too sophisticated for this brutal act; two realities melting together. 

Keeping all emotions and feelings away from her face she gestured - commanded - him to sit down on the sofa. The springs squeaked faintly as he did; a voice which made both of them startle. One more than the other. 

And then, a moment of total silence. They measured each other with their eyes, both evaluating the situation. By now it was very clear to Luca that he had been very, very wrong about this woman. She wasn't what she had pretended to be and Luca felt foolish to have fallen into her games. Still… He couldn't escape the feelings he had for her, which made him feel even more stupid about himself. The woman was aiming a gun at his head and still he marveled the way the light complimented her skin and danced in her eyes as blue as the ocean in fairytales.

Clarice, on the other hand, didn't feel foolish at all. For the first time in God knows how long she was in control of the situation and her emotions. She had a mission, a goal, and she was damn near achieving it. Now, if she played her cards right, soon she might know a hell of a lot more of her life than she did know.

She sat into a chair opposite to the sofa and kept the weapon aimed at him.

"First of all, Luca, I'm sorry about this." Honestly speaking, she was. Not for him, probably, but because of the situation in general. She had wished that she would have been able to handle her own life and own messes without any outsiders.

Luca's eyes were black. He couldn't help feeling betrayed. "Then why are you doing it?"

Clarice's look was calm and her voice showed no sign of second thoughts or remorse. "I have to."

"Why?"

Clarice didn't answer right away. When she did her voice was a degree colder than before." That's hardly any of your business."

Bitterness made his voice raspier than normally. "I think I'm entitled to know. You used me." 

Clarice snorted. "Entitled? Used? What had you planned for this night? I think it contains some 'using', too. So don't preach me about using."

Ouch. He had definitively underestimated her. "Ok, I misjudged you. I'm sorry. But it doesn't give you the right to point a gun to my head." 

A slight shrug of shoulders and an answer with a neutral tone. "Maybe not." 

"But you are. Why? What did I do?"

She looked at him, her face totally expressionless. "You think this is about you?"

Now he was confused. "It isn't?"

Before she had a chance to answer, he continued. "I mean… I really don't understand what is going on. All I did was to take you on a date. Ok, I admit, I wanted to… Well I acted foolishly and apparently took you for something completely else than you are, but isn't this," He nodded towards the gun, "a bit overstated?"

Clarice smiled a wry smile. "You think that's why I'm doing this? Because you wanted to get in my pants? Even you must understand how stupid that sounds." She stood up from the chair, keeping her eyes and the gun aimed at him. "Understand that this has nothing to do with you. Nothing. It's a plain coincidence that you are here." There was a new level of annoyance in her voice.

"Coincidence? Do you always take men in your home and aim a gun at them?" It wasn't probably the best time to try to be witty but... There is only so much a man can take.

Clarice ignored him. "The reason you are here, Luca, is that I need to ask you something."

He just stared at her, feeling weirdly amused. It was not like he had a choice.

She looked calm but her eyes glide in a way which made Luca nervous. That's why her question was an even bigger bomb.

"Who are you working for?"

The fact she had caught him off guard showed on his face and heard in his voice. "What… How…"

Seeing him so surprised, opening and closing his mouth like a fish on a dry land, Clarice couldn't help feeling slightly pleased. Her act had really sunk into him. 

But the satisfaction her acting skills provided wasn't the point here. 

Not giving him much time to recover, she finished his question for him.

"How did I know what you do for living?" She paused for a second, as if to think what to say next. "Let's just say that I have my… resources. But I think that question falls pretty much into the same category as why I'm doing this; I can't and won't tell you."

Stunned, confused, surprised. "Then why should I tell you whom I'm working for?" Desperate.

There was a flicker in her eyes. For a short moment Luca wondered if she was slightly insane. "Because I'm the one holding the gun." There was terrible simplicity in her answer.

"Uhm."

She stared at him without blinking. "Who are you working for?" The threat of what she might do if he decided not to share his information was obvious in her voice.

Honestly speaking, Luca was irritated. Scared he was also, but disguised some of it as a sheer annoyance. He had been fooled, lied to and now this woman was threatening him with a gun and insisting on to know who had hired him. Luca might not like Dr Golding but he had his honor. He had never let a client down and he wouldn't do so now - not even if it cost him his life. Straightening himself in the chair he gathered all his willpower and answered her ice-cold stare.

"I can't and won't tell you."

Clarice looked at him and saw him in a whole new light.. It seemed she had given this man too little credit; he maybe wasn't as stupid as she had considered him to be. She came to think that the information about him in his flat case file had perhaps been accurate. He was the man on his field, and you can't be that if you're a teller. 

But, as admirable his work ethics might have been in some other circumstances, she would have to force the information out of him. In one way or the other.

She let out a considered sigh. "I don't want to kill you, but I will if you don't work with me."

Luca gulped. Was Dr Golding worth this? Especially when he also had expressed his not-so-friendly feelings?

Clarice noticed his hesitation. She took a step towards him and pointed the gun right between his dark eyes. She listened to herself for a while. Would she be able to do this? To shoot him in cold blood? 

Kill a man just to serve her own purposes?

Murder because of her determination?

Take a life on the behalf of her own happiness?

The answer was yes. She didn't bother to analyze it any further.

"I'll ask you one more time. Who hired you?" Her voice was as cold as the gun in her hand.

Luca looked in her eyes and saw she would shoot him. 

He gulped.

An arched eyebrow was the last chance he'd get.

Without even realizing it, he stopped breathing.

Time passed extremely slowly.

To die with honor or to live in shame?

A slight movement on the finger resting on the trigger.

To die or to live?

The hell with honor. 

And like that, looking at the bride of Satan in the eyes, he broke his oaths to himself. Had the feelings he still foolishly had for her something to do with it... Maybe, maybe not. But he knew that the woman in front of him was the only person on the face of the earth who was -and ever would be- able to brake him. 

Some lady.

"Dr. Golding. Dr. John Golding." His voice was silent. Betray yourself and let's see if you can speak out loud.

Clarice's level of anticipation rose to the clouds. Her mouth felt very dry. Pa-Dam, Pa-Dam her heart beat. When she spoke her voice was husky.

"What does he look like?"

Luca didn't care anymore. He was beaten. "Fifty-sixty years old… Brown eyes, dark hair. Sleek. The man is a fucking weirdo if you ask me."

Clarice felt like kissing him. Or herself. 

"And why did he hire you?" It was hard for her to control her voice.

Luca felt tired… Tired and old. And something else… Cheap? "I don't know. I honestly don't know. He just wanted me to follow you."

The feelings she experienced were too much for Clarice to take. There was some reason, an explanation to why he had left. There were more in the picture than eyes were able to see. 

Not even realizing it, she muttered his name.

"Hannibal…" 

It wasn't much more than a sigh but Luca heard it. And then it all came to him in one terrible realization; he understood why Kelly had seemed so familiar and why Dr Golding had scared the living shit out of him. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

He looked at her face -Starling's face - and saw her eyes where unnaturally clear. They both knew that he knew.

He also knew he wouldn't leave the house alive.

When she spoke her voice was soft as a Harpy folded in angora. "Where is he, Luca? Where is Dr. Lecter?"

The name uttered aloud was like a punch into stomach. Hannibal fucking Lecter. He couldn't bring himself to answer to her, just stared at her with his mouth open and face pale as a sheet. 

Starling, obviously, wasn't the model figure of patience. 

"Where is he?" Her voice was harsher.

His mouth closed with a snap and he gulped. The glee in her eyes forced him to speak.

The voice leaving his numb lips was nothing but a whine. "Have you lost your mind?" It was a stupid thing to say and he knew it, but it was all he could think about.

Clarice had had it. She closed the distance between them with a single step, grabbed his hair into her fist and pressed the gun against his temple. As she leaned to hiss the words to him her eyes were burning like coals.

"It was mine to give away. _Where is he?!"_

A voice, deep and soft, coming from the living room door chased the Grim Reaper waiting for Luca away.

"I'm right here, Clarice."


	9. Chapter 9

On the moment his voice reached her, when her conscious self acknowledged it, time froze for Clarice. Her brains were empty, her heart didn't beat and her lungs asked for no fresh air. The blood in her veins stood still.  
  
_"I'm right here, Clarice."   
  
She didn't understand the words. She was too afraid to even think about them, terrified that if exposed to the dissection of her rational mind they would vanish like mist in dawn. Nor could she bring herself to look at the door, not being able to convince herself that he might actually be there in flesh and not just as a creation of her stressed mind. Not knowing which would be worse option; that he would be there or that he wouldn't.   
  
She was stuck in a moment she detested staying in and was afraid to get out of.  
  
Sure, this was what she had been after since the day he had left her standing alone in the terrace but now, the moment being at hand, she found she was terrified. All her questions seemed now useless and in vain, her pursuit of an explanation hurried and unwise. Did she really want to know? Really?  
  
  
  
For Dr. Lecter the moment was a moment of the utmost nervousness and anxiety. When he had entered the house a few minutes ago he had gone through the whole scale of human emotions from pure exhilaration to sheer fear. How would she react? How would he react? After this time of loneliness and despair, what would it be like to see her? Smell her? Feel her?  
  
And as he had, he had known it would be a one-time-only experience. He could walk out on her again and come back again and it wouldn't feel the same. He could spend the rest of his days with her and would never feel anything like this. He had felt weak and strong, sad and overjoyed, loser and winner – all in the same second.   
  
To open his mouth and speak up instead of rushing to her and holding her in his arms till the end of time was probably the hardest thing he had ever came across with. When he spoke he didn't trust his voice though it remained steady.  
  
__"I'm right here, Clarice."   
  
To see her reaction, or better the lack of it, her total stop, was like a stab in the chest. In that single second he saw the crushing, devastating pain he had caused her and it made him despise himself. He saw her disbelief, her fear, her lack of trust in her own senses – and all because of him.  
  
Hannibal Lecter had never felt so low.  
  
  
  
From the third party's point of view the situation held somewhat different emotions. When the death Luca had expected turned the invitation down and the atmosphere changed from threatening to… still, he carefully peeked behind his closed lids.   
  
What he saw was her beautiful face only inches away from his own. He looked into her eyes and started; her eyes were the eyes of a corpse. There seemed to be no activity in her, it was like she had been a character on TV that was now on still. Her light breath quivering on his cheek offered a striking contrast to the cold steel pressing against his temple.  
  
He moved his look from her dead fish-eyes to the doorway, his vision partly blocked by her shoulder. Yet he saw more than he would have wanted – Lecter standing only meters away from them. Not moving, just standing. For the second time during the time he had had interaction with him Luca came to think of a rattlesnake preparing for attack.   
  
The situation felt like a very bad joke told by a very twisted person; things like this just didn't happen. You don't end up in the same room with a psycho killer and the black sheep of the American FBI after the former has hired you to follow the latter to whom you have fallen for. It doesn't happen.  
  
  
Though he was in the worst position Luca had one advantage; the emotions he experienced were not even near to the other ones drifting in the air. It was probably because of that he was the first out of the tree to regain the ability to function.   
  
  
Something that would turn out to be quite fateful for all of them.  
  
  
Clarice came back to her senses a quarter of a second too late; her quick reactions aside Luca had already had too firm a grip from the gun. She still managed to fire; the bullet hit the wall behind Luca and the sound of the gun going off next to his ear left him half-deaf. On the next second, after a very short struggle, Luca was the one holding the gun. He literally jumped away from Clarice so that he was able to keep an eye both of them.  
  
Dr. Lecter had moved forward. Luca aimed the gun at him.  
  
"Stop!"  
  
Dr. Lecter did. His contempt showed on his face.   
  
Luca's voice was nervous. The gun in his hands trembled as he kept it aimed at Dr. Lecter.  
  
"Ok, ok…" He licked his dry lips. "What the fuck is going on here?" His voice was a bit too loud and he spoke a bit too fast to be classified as a calm person.  
  
"Watch your language, young man. " Dr. Lecter's voice was silk. "You are being very rude."  
  
"Shut up!" Luca sounded desperate. His eyes had the look of a cornered wild animal. "I'm not taking orders from you. You are… I don't even know what you are."  
  
If Dr. Lecter heard him he didn't reply in any way; his look was pointed at Clarice standing next to Luca. She didn't return the eye contact; she couldn't bring herself to. She was confused, angry, afraid and above all, hurt. She just stared at the floor looking very resigned. Her hands hung on her sides like they were paralyzed.  
  
  
Dr. Lecter's chest ached to see her like that. How he would have wanted to reach out and touch the soft skin of her face, or to caress the shiny stream of her hair. How he would have wanted to turn back the time and wipe away the mistake he'd made. To kiss away her agony, hold her and tell her that everything would be alright. To save her from the pain… But he how would he be able to save her from himself?  
  
  
Luca glanced at them, both distracted by something he had no idea about. Keeping an eye to Dr. Gol- Lecter who seemed to have woken from his thoughts he walked to Clarice - despite the look in Dr. Lecter's eyes. When he stepped behind her and pressed the gun against her neck, she startled. Only now she realized the situation they have gotten into.  
  
"Luca…" Her voice was silent.  
  
"Shut it! I'm not listening to you anymore. I've had it with your lies, Kelly – Oh, sorry, it wasn't your name. What was it, then? Have I forgot? Claire? Carrie?"  
  
"Clarice." She muttered. "My name is Clarice."  
  
"Whatever. Now, we're leaving." He yanked her.  
  
Dr. Lecter's voice had a new level of danger in it. "We?" He stared at Luca under his eyebrows.  
  
Luca tightened his hold of her. "Yes. We. She and me. Look, I don't even pretend to know what's going on in here, and to be honest I don't even want to. If this is what I think it is, well, you people are sick. Especially you." He poked Clarice with the gun.  
  
Clarice felt an anger boiling inside her. "Who the fuck are you to criticize me?"  
  
Luca grinned, ending up looking slightly insane. "I'm the one holding the gun, remember?"  
  
Clarice closed her eyes in fury. Her delicate hand were pressed fists.   
  
  
Dr. Lecter observed the situation with such cold rationality it would have made Luca wet himself had he seen inside his head. He wondered if he had the time to…  
  
  
A stab of white-glowing pain filled his conscious self.  
  
  
Oh no, not now.  
  
  
__Yes now, said the intruder inside him. Another arrow of inhumane pain made him stagger.  
  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Luca's voice felt distant.  
  
  
He concentrated all his mental strength to block the pain building inside him. Useless. There are things you can't beat and this was one of them.  
  
  
Again, the pain slashed him, making him fall to his knees. It was hard to maintain consciousness.  
  
  
Clarice, screaming out his name.  
  
  
Pain.   
  
  
Clarice…  
  
  
Pain. Everywhere.  
  
  
Darkness.  
  
  
  
*  
  
  
*  
  
  
"What the fuck is he doing?! Get up!! Get up now!!" Luca's voice was near hysterical. Dr. Lecter's still body lying on the ground didn't move.  
  
"Hannibal!!!!!! Hannibal!!!!" Clarice was struggling to get free from Luca, to get to Hannibal. She had seen his face, distorted and terrible, and she knew something was seriously wrong.   
  
It was useless to fight him; he had much more physical strength. The gun pressed again to her neck, making her to stop struggling. Clarice spoke with a low, thick voice.  
  
"Let go of me. Let go. I don't care what you do, you can leave. Let me go now."  
  
For a split second it felt he was actually considering the option. Yet inside her she knew he wouldn't agree and was proven right a second later.  
  
"No. You're coming with me. I'm taking you away. I'm..."  
  
"Saving me? That's what you think you're doing? You stupid fuck, let go of me!!!"  
  
**"NO!"   
  
Clarice stared at Dr. Lecter, tears of fear and anger burning her eyes. Every second that passed struck her like a sword and she saw nothing else than Dr. Lecter's still body. Her nightmare, her biggest fear had come to truth and she was helpless. He hadn't moved at all and Clarice was afraid he was dead; he didn't seem to breathe.   
  
Luca pushed her a bit forward though she did her very best to fight him.  
  
"We're leaving, now." He dragged her with him a few steps and then stopped.   
  
A wry smile spread on his face. Clarice knew what he was about to do before he spoke.   
  
"A favor to mankind." His eyes looked manic.   
  
He aimed the gun at Dr. Lecter's still figure. "And they claim you can't kill evil."  
  
  
*  
  
  
What happened during the next few seconds remained forever unclear to Luca. All he had time to realize was that a second before he pulled the trigger, Clarice somehow managed to get free from his hold and take a hold of his hand holding the gun. By the time his brains realized the gun was aimed at Clarice, the signal moving his finger had already been sent.   
  
Clarice flew backwards from the power of the shot and fell to the ground.  
  
"Shit!!" Luca dropped the gun and watched as Clarice, stunned from pain, crawled to Dr. Lecter's body. She didn't have the strength to move very much, just close enough to touch him.  
  
In the next second Luca's feelings took hold of him and he was next to her on the ground, searching for the wound caused by the bullet.  
  
"God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…."  
  
Ignoring his babbling and focusing all of her to staying conscious Clarice reached for Dr. Lecter's sleeve. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for.  
  
Luca, bent over her, pressed the wound with his hand. "Let's get you to the hospital... Come, I'll help you up…"  
  
Clarice turned her face to her and whispered something. In order to hear Luca leaned very close to her.  
  
Her whisper was dry and barely audible. "I'd rather burn in the fires of hell for a thousand years with him than live a day in the paradise with you."  
  
She swung the Harpy; as the hot blood splashed on her she lost her consciousness.  
  
  
  
Three figures, all still, lying on the floor; like the closing scene of a grotesque play.**_


	10. Chapter 10

Silence shields the pain.

Silence also gives one the necessary space to reflect and remember, to criticize and condemn. The easiest thing in this world is to be afterwise and at the same time it is the most tempting. What if, what if. What if I hadn't done that or said this? What if I hadn't gone there or been here?

What if?

It's tormenting and useless to dwell in made mistakes but so is the human nature it's almost impossible to avoid. Even the most intelligent and civilized of men easily tosses all his knowledge and skill on different fields of life out of the window and deliberately gets buried in the never-ending circle of what if.

Silence shields the pain and so the silence was everywhere. No voice or sound of any kind was allowed to interfere it. No talk, no music, no nothing. Only the silence which was both in the house and in the mind of a man once again occupying it. Silence in the room in which she lay.

The thick drapes in front of the windows kept the sunlight out, keeping the room as dark as a sealed tomb. Dr. Lecter felt the day mocked him and did not wish to have any reminder of it.

Days turned into nights which turned into days and they all melted together, forming a time and space separate from the outside world. There _was no outside world; there was only the dark room and the silence._

Very much like that of between heartbeats.

Or that after the heartbeats have stopped.

When he had gained consciousness after the short lack of it on the faithful night, the sight that met him had wanted him to wish for death. To see her lying on the ground covered with blood, face pale and lips bluish, had been the most dreadful sight of his life. The next second, bringing with itself the realization that she was indeed alive and not dead, had thrown him on the other side of the emotional range. Luckily her wound had been severe but not fatal, and he had been able to treat her himself. 

Had she died… 

No. Don't go there.

This was all so familiar, like an expanded déja-vu. She in the bed, he treating her. Guarding her, sheltering her. Only this time the slightly hopeful anticipation was placed by the dark, suffocating desperation. Fear of the future is the greatest fear of all.

The irony of the situation made him want to laugh and it made him want to cry. Clarice, injured and hurt, when all he ever wanted to do was to protect her from those very things. Clarice, shot and wounded because of him. 

Because of his weakness, because of his failure.

And when she would wake up from her rest, what would await for her? The exact same feeling he had experienced when he had seen her limp body on the ground. Heart-stopping, suffocating pain brought about by the realization that everything has its end – and unfortunately there is life after it. For those who are left behind the fresh water of life turns into a bitter wine.

The fact that he was about to cause that to her made him bitterly regretted he had came back. 

^^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

She came back to her sense little by little, drifting a long time in the middle of dream and reality. During the moments she was awake she sensed the stillness of the surrounding space, but above all, she sensed she wasn't alone. She sensed him and it made her feel… Nervous. Scared. 

Exhilarated.

*

A soft sigh coming from the bed woke Dr. Lecter, sleeping lightly in the chair, up. In a few seconds he was next to her, quickly checked everything was as it supposed to be and then sat down on the edge of the bed. She was coming along and he wanted to be next to her when she did; God knows he had left her alone too much as it was.

Slowly, very slowly, she opened her eyes. He saw the glister of them though the room was dark. For a second it looked like she had had tears in her eyes though he knew it wasn't so.

"How are you feeling?" His voice was soft. Worried, perhaps.

Clarice closed her eyes again. She felt dizzy and nauseous and needed all of her concentration to form speech.

The voice leaving her pale lips was only a whisper. "What happened?"

Dr. Lecter took her delicate hand into his own and squeezed it faintly. "I'll tell you later."

Clarice peered her eyes and looked into his direction. "Are you…" A few seconds of silence. "Here to stay?" She didn't let her fear nor her hope show in her voice.

Dr. Lecter hesitated for a while before he answered and hoped that she didn't notice. "Yes, I am, Clarice. I'm… Here to stay."

As Clarice fell back asleep again Dr. Lecter rose very carefully. He placed her hand on her chest were it rose and lowed, synchronized with her breathing.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Her recovery had been unbelievably fast. It hadn't been very long and she was already up, though not very long periods of time. Most of the time she spent in their bed – in which she hadn't slept after he had left. It was weird for her now to be back in it. He didn't sleep next to her, and Clarice didn't know why. Was it because of her injury or because he just didn't want to? Or maybe it was because of something else, something she wasn't sure if she even wanted to know.

Whatever it was, it was between them. Pretty much everything was, these days – Clarice had found that there was a new level of distance between them. Actually distance wasn't the right word but it was the best she could think of; something had changed and she had a feeling that the change wasn't good.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^

He was sitting in front of the piano when she came downstairs. The cover was open but he didn't play, just sat there his hands in his lap. Now that she came to think of it he hadn't played the piano for all the time he had been back.

She walked into the room and sat down on a chair next to him. Uncountable were the times when she had sat in that very same chair and listened to him play, just listened. Sometimes, for hours. 

As if he had heard her thoughts he turned to look at her. His face softened.

"Good morning, Clarice."

"Good morning."

They looked at each other, not knowing where to start. There were too much to say.

Clarice broke the eye contact and let her look wander around the spacious room. Her stare stopped on the faint stain on the carpet. 

"Is he dead? Luca?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." She didn't feel anything.

Dr. Lecter stood up and walked to the window. The pale morning light greeted him with its white fingers touching him through the glass. 

Clarice looked at him from where she was sitting. She had so much to ask; so much she wanted to know… And now, as the moment had arrived, she found it was so hard to speak. Yet she did.

"Hannibal…" She thought for a moment. "What happened? On that night?"

His voice was calm. "You tell me. I wasn't… around when all the action took place."

Clarice didn't look at his direction when she answered. "He was going to shoot you."

"And you took the bullet for me?" 

Her silence was enough answer.

Dr. Lecter closed his eyes for a while. Brave Clarice… And yet so foolish. Save something that was already doomed. 

Her voice was quieter than before. "Now you tell me, Hannibal. You tell me what happened to you. And… Why you left the way you did." He heard how she stood up. "If I'm not very off track, they're related."

He remained quiet. How could he ever tell her? 

"Hannibal?" There was demand in her voice.

Her footsteps stopped behind him. Her hand on his arm.

Voice no more than a whisper and yet it held terrible strength. "Tell me."

He looked at her and his eyes were soft, softer than ever before. He put her hand on her face and caressed her cheek with her forefinger. 

"Do you really want to know, Clarice? Do you want to know why I walked out on you? Why I lost consciousness?"

Words would have been inadequate; she nodded. The fear she felt shone from her eyes. Still nothing could have prepared her for what he was about to say.

A moment of silence like no other. 

Later, as Clarice reflected back on that moment being able to name it as the worse of her life, she realized that that silence had been the last she'd ever experience. There were no complete silence after it; the knowledge was always present, whispering in her ear. 

The last silence of her life was broke by the words she never would have wanted to hear.

Dr Lecter's voice, so soft and silent. "I have cancer. I'm going to die."

She stared at him and from her eyes he saw she didn't understand. Didn't accept.

She shook her head as if waking up from her thoughts and closed her eyes for a while. "What?" Her voice revealed the information had started to sink in.

"I'm dying, Clarice." He tried to be as gentle and calm as possible but to see the shock and pain the upcoming realization caused her was almost too much.

World slowed its rotation then, at least that's how it felt for her.

Cancer.

All her guesses, all her wondering, all her worst scenarios… They had all been wrong and none of them had been this bad.

Die.

She shook her head. "No." There was a determination coming from desperation in her voice.

He just stared at her, the look in his eyes so soft and sad. The red pinpoints had stopped their dance and the maroon was just maroon, his look was so soft, the pinpoints were gone, his eyes were just eyes and he was just a man, a mortal man and he would die, die, die DIE DIE

"NO!!! It's not true!" She screamed to his face still so sad and tears ran down on her face. "You are not going to die, do you hear me? NOT!!"

His arms around her now, holding her against the steady beat of his heart, and her tears wet his shirt.

They stood like that for a long time.

When her tears had run out he took her face between his hands. Gently he kissed her cheeks, drinking her salty tears. She kept her eyes closed even when he spoke.

His voice was raspy. "I'm so sorry, Clarice." 

She inhaled deeply and opened her eyes. Even now, her eyes swollen from crying and face wet from tears, she was beautiful. Her voice wasn't altogether steady.

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

He released his hold of her face and turned around. "It doesn't matter."

"It does to me." 

He had walked to the sofa and sat down. "I didn't wish to… be a burden to you." 

Clarice couldn't help just staring at him in disbelief. Burden? For the love of God… "How can anyone as intelligent as you be so stupid?" She didn't actually mean to say it but it just slipped out of her mouth.

He gave her a sarcastic look. "I appreciate that, Clarice."

"Sorry. But do you even understand what you're saying? How could you ever be a burden to me? My God, even the word makes me want to laugh. Do you have so little faith in us?" There was a certain level of accusation in her voice.

Dr. Lecter didn't answer right away. He seemed to be buried in his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice sounded distant and the look in his eyes was focused in something visible only for him. "Do you know what it feels like to be betrayed by your own body? When the mind is the same but the flesh starts to fail? To feel your own decay?" He blinked a few times and shook his head slightly, waking up from his mental world.

Pointing his maroon eyes to her he continued. Now his voice was as strong as ever. "I'm going to die, Clarice. Soon. I wanted to spare you from it, because, I assure you, it's not going to be pretty. I didn't want you to remember me as a sick man chained to his bed and I didn't want you to chain yourself into me. I know that you, with your high levels of moral and ethics, would stand by me till the end. Because it's the right thing to do."

She shook her head. "No, I wouldn't."

He arched an eyebrow. "No?"

She walked to him. "Not because it's the right thing to do. Because it is what I want to do."

She sat next to him and put her hand into his. "You're not a wild animal, Hannibal. You can't crawl into a cave and die. It's not the way it works."

He was about to answer but she didn't let him; putting her finger on his mouth she shut him up. "No, now you're listening to me. Do you even realize what you put me through when you left? I didn't know what I had done wrong, what drove you away from me. Why you didn't love me anymore. I went through hell, and because of what? Because of the demons in your head. You thought I would have stood by you out of obligation. You let your own fear towards your mortality to become as my fear for it. I refuse to act the way you have predicted. You don't owe me, Hannibal, or rule my actions. You don't have the right to do that. Yet you did so by doing the decision for me. And you chose wrong." Tears were running down on her face again. "I will not think less of you even if you are ill. I will not think less of you because you are mortal, a man. I will never, ever think less of you because of anything and you know why? Because I love you, I LOVE you, and don't you dare to deny it by walking away from me." Her voice broke.

He pulled her to him and held her like their lives had depended on it. Her scent in his nostrils, the feel of her body against his own… He realized that right here, in his arms, he had everything he could ever ask for life. He had had everything.

On the next night they shared a bed once again, and everything was right in the world. 

For now.


	11. Chapter 11

_We want to laugh forever_

_Lived days to full, together_

_Truth is we're out of time  
'Cause we're only a breath away_

Skunk Anansie - Breathing 

The beauty of the sunrise was overwhelming. Clarice, standing on the terrace, watched as the first beams made the leaves of the trees golden. She inhaled deeply the fresh morning air. The rising sun warmed her face and she closed her eyes for a while to enjoy it. She heard the sounds coming from the street clearly.; cars passing, people talking, children laughing. For a reason she didn't know they made her sad.

She wiped her eyes quickly; that damned brightness made her eyes watery. 

She left the terrace and went back into the house, its cool calmness quickly making her forget the vivid sounds and colors of the outside world. The spacious rooms, steady walls and high ceilings seemed to be cut off from the rest of the universe; in here, everything else ceased to exist. It was just the house and its silence so complete it felt it were screaming. And soon, after perhaps only a few days…

Her voice would be the only one left.

The floor didn't make a sound under her weight as she walked to the direction of the master bedroom. She closed her eyes as she walked.

A turn to the right…

A few stairs…

Watch for the drawer…

A few steps and her hand reached for the knob of the bedroom door. She felt the cool metal under her hand instantly, she didn't have to search. 

After so many times she knew this all by heart.

As she pushed the door open she opened her eyes, too. The room was pleasantly cool.

"Hannibal?"

Her soft voice called out to him through the peaceful room. She knew it was probably useless; he hadn't been conscious in many days now. 

Clarice walked by the bed where he lay and took his hand into her own. The cancer had finally conquered him. He would die soon. And it was probably for the best; he suffered from terrible pains when awake. Clarice touched his face. Under her palm, warmed by the sun, his skin felt cold and lifeless.

"Oh my love… " Her whispering voice was barely audible.

The day he would die was the day she feared the most. To wait for the death of a loved one – more than a loved one – was agonising. And yet on some level she wished for it knowing that it was the best thing for him. But the knowledge didn't take away the pain inside her or ease her mind when she woke up in the middle of the night to listen if he was still breathing. Fearing that she wouldn't be there when he would die and fearing that she would.

It didn't seem fair or just to have it end like this. All the memories she would have would forever be coloured by these last times and by the knowledge that he had died a painful death. She wasn't bitter, really, she just… It hurt.

Carefully, she climbed into the bed and lay next to him, his hand on her own. 

Tears made her voice distorted. "If I could take that pain away from you… If I could take your place…"

It just wasn't fair.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

In an experienced manner Clarice changed the infusion bottle. From her appearance it was impossible to say if something was wrong, but inside she was dying. Hannibal had gained consciousness for a while last night and it had killed her to see his suffering.

_"Clarice…"_

_His voice is as silent as a breeze on a winter day but Clarice hears it. In a second she is by his bed. "Shhh… Don't speak." She strokes his face._

_He stays silent for a long time, and Clarice thinks he has fallen back to the state where he lately has spent most of the time. Just as she is about to rise he proves her wrong by speaking again. _

_His whisper has more power now. "Let me go, Clarice."_

_A wave of coldness runs through her. Does he think he has to hold on for her? To continue the useless fight because of her? _

_Though it breaks her heart she says the words she thinks he wants to hear. "Go, love. It's time." She tries to keep her voice steady._

_Another pause, longer than before. "No, help me. If you love me…" His voice breaks down and he coughs. "…You would help me die."_

_Clarice doesn't have a chance to answer. A change in his breathing lets her know that he is not with her anymore. His mind has wandered somewhere else, it has once again left the body which has betrayed it. She's glad; she wouldn't have had the words._

Hot tears burn behind her closed eyes. How could she do it? To take the life of he whom she loves the most?

_Do I have the right not to? To continue his suffering? The life that has no meaning anymore? Only pain and humiliation. I know how he hates his body now. It's capturing his mind. Oh God…But I can't kill him. I love him so much. I don't want to be left alone… What's there for me after he's gone?_

Staring out of the window she tries to find an answer to the question which is tearing her. She has to make the hardest decision of her life; a decision which will affect her more than anything before. The voice of her heart doesn't agree with the voice of her sense. 

All day she stands by the window but isn't mentally present. She is in the palace of her memory which Hannibal once taught her to build. She goes through her memories, trying to decide what to do. She re-lives the most important moments of her life seeking for guidance. 

By the time night has fallen the reason for her staying in her memory palace has changed. Now, in the depth of her mind, she says her goodbyes.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

Clarice puts the receiver down and looks at her watch. Time is running short but it's not out yet. Slowly, very slowly she walks upstairs and gives not a single thought anymore to the phone message she just left in Ardelia Mapp's answering machine.

_Her voice reveals the tears her eyes are shedding. "Ardelia…" _

_A long, long silence. _

_Then, out of the hissing of the old tape of the answering machine, her voice again. Stronger this time; the tears are gone._

_"It's me, Clarice. __I… Shit. Listen. __I know I have no right to ask this after what I… After everything. But I really need someone I can trust and you are the only one. Please, Delia, do this thing for me and I'll be grateful till the end of the world and over. Come here and take care of stuff… Take care of the funerals. Would you do that for me?"_

The rest of her message, containing the location and other practical matters, is almost impossible to hear due to the hissing of the old tape, so many times re-recorded and used. Needless to say it won't be used ever again; today, the tape is in the dark basement of Quantico, forever locked away from the living world.

^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^^^

The house is completely silent. Not a single sound can be heard inside the walls that have seen so much, witnessed so many happy and also sad events. 

The concealing night has fallen.

Upstairs, in the master bedroom, the windows are open, letting the cool night breeze in. The gentle whisper of wind travels around the room. It swirls around and the feel of it is caressing and smoothing. Ever so slightly it moves the letter on the nightstand.

Should we read it? OK then. But don't tell anyone.

_To the one who finds this_

_My name is Clarice Starling. I don't know if you know who I am; I used to be an agent in the FBI until I disappeared several years ago. Had my friend the discretion I hoped she would have you are probably either her (hi, A) or someone from the American FBI. If that's the case it shouldn't be difficult for you to run my name through the database. When the red lights and the alarm go on don't say I didn't warn you. _

_But, to get to the point. _

_As you might have already realised the man in the bed is Dr. Hannibal Lecter, a renowned psychiatrist, convicted murderer and the one with whom I shared my life with for years. Imagine that, all in the same package._

_Years ago we vanished from the face of the earth after the incidents in the Muskrat Farm. Actually, I'm not quite sure what happened – I wasn't conscious at the time. But Dr. Lecter was and he saved me; he saved my life. Now there's a heading for tabloids. _

_Anyway, we fled. We spent a few weeks in the US, and after the murder of Paul Krendler – in which I participated – we left. Ever since we've been travelling around the world, but mostly we have lived here in Buenos Aires. _

_What can I say, life treated us well._

_You probably think what the hell is wrong with me, why I voluntarily spent years with Dr. Lecter. Well, the reason is quite simple; I loved him. And he loved me. Close your mouth before you continue reading. It will only make you look stupid if you stand there like a fish on a dry land. And we don't want that, now do we?_

_Yes, the tabloids were right all along when spreading those Beauty and The Beast –stories. I know you find it impossible to believe but with him I found the peace I had searched for all my life. He understood me in a way beyond your knowledge and loved me more than anyone ever could have. And I loved him, more than my life. No, correction: I love him. No need for the past tense._

_I bet I know what you're thinking right now. "Poor girl, Lecter messed up her mind." You couldn't be more wrong. Or maybe he did – I guess I wouldn't know about it. But understand this: I had never been happy before him. And I know that I wouldn't have been if I hadn't accepted my feelings and needs and left with him. He gave me so much; he taught me how to live. How to feel, how to share… How to love. _

_The day I took him into my life was the day I stopped existing and started living. _

_What we shared was the most beautiful thing in my life, dare I say the meaning of it. It is impossible to believe, I know. I couldn't believe it myself when I first realised I was in love with him. I thought about the absurdity of our relationship; me, an FBI-agent and he, a serial killer. But then I realised that it's just a coincidence what we are. It could have been just as possible that I would have been, for example, a waitress and he, say, a civil servant. Cos in the end, none of that crap matters._

_Our actions don't rule us, they don't change our souls. And love knows no boundaries. _

_You, who are reading this: I hope that you too will find the same kind of happiness in your life. If you do, remember this: When you meet your soulmate, don't stop to think if your relationship is appropriate or not. If you do and decide it's not… You will throw away the meaning of your life. You will live the rest of your lonely days thinking "what if…?". It could have happened to me and I thanked my fate every day that it didn't. These past years have been so full of love, happiness, passion, caring… It's impossible to put them into words._

_As I'm writing this, I'm thinking about death. What to make of it? Should I fear it? No, death is nothing anyone should be afraid of. Death is an experience we all have to go through some day. What terrifies me is not death but the pain I know will wait for me. I have to take his life, a life which I love more than my own. _

_I don't want to… But he asked me to release him from his sufferings._

_I don't want to… But I will because I love him._

I don't want to go on without him.

_Of course I could do the same for myself, a release from sufferings. It's tempting, to inject the same overdose of narcotic in my veins as I'm going to inject into his. I admit that I have never longed for death this much. But it would be the easy way out and I'm not going to take it. Do you know why?_

_I'm a warrior._

_Some things are meant to be, it's said. Was it meant for us to share our lives, to be together as a man and a woman? To love, to care, to understand? Don't ask me, I wouldn't know. None of us knows why we are here, but let me tell you this: I didn't care about that when we were together. Not once did I stop to think: "What's the meaning of life? Why am I here?" _

_Do you know why? I simply didn't give a shit. I had it all, I had more than all. I didn't feel the need for more. There were no possibility for me to be happier, more content, more satisfied – more anything._

_I had it all._

_And now, as the last minutes are coming to their end, I'm proud to say that I can look back at my life and say: I have no regrets. Do you hear me, you, who are horrified because of my choice, my life with a madman? I'm not sorry for anything._

_I hope his death will give peace to the families of his victims. I'm sorry for their sufferings, no one would have deserved them. Did Dr. Lecter deserve cancer? Most may say he did. I, naturally, disagree. I knew him, in the most complete way anyone ever could have. I'm not saying that I knew him perfectly, I'm sure there were parts in him I had no idea about. I doubt he knew himself wholly either. _

_It is said that God created man as His own image. If that is really the case Dr. Lecter was His masterpiece. And that, my friend, tells more about God than you are ready to admit._

_I know the horrible things he has done. But nothing, and I mean nothing can change the fact that he saved me. The one who saves one person saves the whole world. I guess that saying doesn't apply in these circumstances from your opinion, but for me it was reality. What I'm trying to say is that the murderer in him wasn't everything. Remember that there wouldn't be good without evil._

_The scales of our society, the standards of our civilisation and the laws of our government say that he, and probably I, were insane. So let it be; I don't care. We lived a feeling which was in its power larger than our limited life, and if that certificates us something that I know we're not… Well, that's your problem._

_Nothing takes the past away like the future._

_Clarice Starling_

^^^^^^^^^^^*^^^^^^^^

_Two years later_

Prague is breathtakingly beautiful at this time of year. The whole town feels as if it were pulsating; it beats like a huge, warm heart full of happiness, love and hope.

At least to those who wish to think it so.

It has been two years now since the day of his death, and Clarice Starling hasn't forgot. How could she ever, after all of it? How could she ever forget the last moments of his life when she lay next to him in the dark, silent room and listened to his heartbeats?

Pa-Dam…

Pa-Dam…

'

'

'

And then… Nothing. 

No matter how hard she tried to listen… Nothing. When tears blurred her vision and the pain of losing was actually physical, nothing.

How could she forget? The feel of his last breath on her skin? When her tears wet his face as she foolishly hoped for one more breath, even a sigh, no matter how faint? How could she forget the feeling that took her over when she realised that he was actually dead, that she would never, ever again lose herself in the maroon of his eyes or hear him utter her name?

The feel of his lips, still warm, when she kissed him for the one last time? The taste of the kiss… The taste of pain?

The last sight of him before she left the room, the house, the country? 

How could she ever forget?

She can't. Every second he is with her, the memory of him surrounding her like the air that she breathes. Sometimes she wishes she would have taken the easy way and killed herself so as to rest the eternity by his side. 

Sometimes the pain is too much.

She tries to seek joy from life knowing that it is what he wished but it's hard, so hard. Still, after all this time of trying to adjust, she sometimes can't believe he is really gone. There have been moments when she has mistaken someone in the crowd as him. Several times she has thought she has heard his voice. But it never is him… No matter how hard it is. 

For he is dead and will forever remain like that.

Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute she goes on and accepts. It's easier now than it used to be, but it will never be easy. After you have shared your life with someone like she did it will never be easy to be without that someone.

She does not know where his last resting place is. If Ardelia followed her wishes, which she trusts she did, he is buried somewhere in Lithuania. She doesn't regret that she wasn't there to bury him. Knowing that had she been there to see how the cold, icy soil covered the coffin where he lay she wouldn't have been able to leave that place ever again. She would have stayed by his dead body under the ground until death would have claimed her as its own, too.

She doesn't have the need to seek his grave and cry her longing to the tombstone; she has everything she needs in her head. She remembers him and she will never forget.

Though life offers her not much joy these days, she knows he would be proud of her for she survived, she carried on. 

She… Is a warrior.

The setting sun colors her hair in bursts of red flame. 

She will never be alone. 

_E voi pur sete quella ch'io più amo, _

_e che far mi potete maggior dono, _

_e 'n cui la mia speranza più riposa: _

_che sol per voi servir la vita bramo. _

_-Dante Alighieri-_

_And you, you are the one I cherish most; _

_you can bestow the greatest gift on me, _

_and my best hopes in you are sheltered best, _

_for you alone I long to serve this life._


	12. Epilogue

The sun has set and the night has calmed the fuss and noise of the day. Somewhere in the countryside of Southern France, in a small village, an old woman sits on the porch of her small but cozy house and looks at the stars.

The stars are bright tonight.

She is old. It's hard to estimate her age, but it has to be around eighty. The people in the village like her but keep their distance; she has never been very fond of company.

No one knows where she came from almost twenty years ago, or why. No one knows and no one has ever asked her that or anything else relating to her past – there's something in her eyes which has warned them not to.

There are things better left untold.

She looks at the stars with her deep blue eyes. She has waited for so long… Every night she sits on the porch and waits.

Waits for him.

She knows he will come for her, just like she came to him decades ago. She knows they will be together again. Not in this reality or dimension, but what does that matter? They will be together, forever, and nothing can change that.

When, years and years ago, she searched for a place to settle down after her seemingly endless travelling around the world, she had only two criteria: she wanted to be in peace and she wanted to see the stars.

Now, in the place she has learnt to call a home, she has both. 

And she knows she doesn't have to wait for long anymore. The decades of loneliness are coming to their end as she feels her time is running out. She doesn't detest life anymore like she used to but she is almost glad it will be over soon – nothing was the same after him. Though she eventually was able to turn the consuming pain as bittersweet memories, it didn't bring him back. 

Carefully she rises from the chair and walks slowly inside with quiet steps. It's time to go to sleep… She is so tired.

As she lies in her bed, the night breeze coming from the window touches her skin in a way it never has before.

Only one has touched her in a way like that.

She closes her eyes and hears how the wind sighs softly outside. 

_…Clarice…_

With a smile on her lips she lets go.

Tonight…

Their stars will be the same.


End file.
